Crossing the Line
by notsure2010
Summary: Maura needs Jane, but she doesn't know how to ask.  Rated T in general, but the last chapter is rated M.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: The usual disclaimer applies. I own nothing.

Chapter 1

Sitting on her couch, Maura Isles pointed her remote at the TV and the screen went black. She sat still for a moment, sinking into the couch cushions with her eyes closed, willing the wheels in her brain to stop spinning. She was physically and mentally exhausted, but so far neither meditation nor mindless television had helped her to relax.

A quiet thumping sound from the kitchen made her sit up suddenly, eyes wide, scanning the room around her.

_It's just Bass_, she thought, sinking back into the couch and rubbing her eyes. Her heart beat rapidly, and she berated herself for being unable to control it.

Once, not long ago, Jane had been the one startled by the sudden sound of Bass's shell thumping against the leg of a chair as he slowly made his way across the kitchen floor. And Maura had been the one to reassure her, promise her with a sigh and a pat on the arm that she was safe and protected and understood.

_Jane_.

Sighing, Maura glanced at the clock. It was only 9:00. Not exactly bedtime, but close enough. And, after everything she had been through in the past week, would anyone fault her for ignoring the unopened medical journals piled on the desk in her office and retiring early? Rolling her eyes, Maura mentally chastised herself for believing that anyone cared what time she went to bed.

_Jane would have called by now, if she was going to call, anyway._

Every light in the house was on, so Maura walked through each room, flipping light switches and double-checking the locks on the front, patio, and garage doors. She left several lamps on throughout the house, however, as well as the overhead light in the hallway outside her bedroom. When she finally completed her nighttime ablutions and crawled into bed, a thin beam of light stretched across the otherwise dark room from the door left slightly ajar. She turned away from the light so that it wouldn't shine in her eyes and pulled up the blanket around her shoulders as she sank into the sheets.

Maura had always preferred to sleep in complete darkness. Even the florescent glow of a digital alarm clock was too much light—she used a clock that only lit up when you touched it. But now—

She was quite bitter about the fact that it was her father who had revived her childhood fear of the dark.

Tossing and turning, Maura failed to settle into sleep.

When the clock read 11:00 and she was still wide awake, Maura turned on the bedside lamp and reached for the phone. In the drawer of her nightstand she found a notebook, and when her eyes adjusted to the light she scanned a long series of numbers on one of the pages and punched them into the phone.

A woman answered after just two rings.

"Mom?"

"Maura? Is everything all right? What time is it there?" Constance Isles had been with her husband in Singapore for two months but she never seemed to remember the exact time difference.

"Everything's fine, it's just after eleven. I hope I didn't catch you in the middle of something?"

"No, not at all—I just didn't expect to hear from you today. How are you?"

"Well, I've been having trouble sleeping so I thought I might as well call since I was awake."

"Insomnia? Again? Is it as bad as it was in medical school?"

"No, nothing like that." Hearing the worry in her mother's voice, Maura instantly regretted making the call. The timbre of Constance's voice had become increasingly shaky—increasingly _elderly_, she realized—in the years since she had turned sixty, and hearing it through the phone line from half a world away reminded Maura of why she had stopped confiding in her mother.

"Well, has something happened? Is there a reason you can't sleep?"

Maura winced. She hadn't told either of her parents that she had been kidnapped by her birth father—or any of the things that she had learned about him and her half-brother. There didn't seem to be a reason for them to know that she was the offspring of a mob boss.

"I don't know." She hedged around the truth. "Just work, I guess," she said tentatively, feeling her pulse increase as she told a half-truth.

"A difficult case?"

"You could say that. I can't really talk about it." That was the truth—Maura Isles was her own case at the moment.

"Is your detective friend working on it with you? Where is she? Don't you two usually go out on weekends, anyway?"

"It's only Thursday night here, it's not Friday yet. And Jane's working another case."

"I thought you worked the same cases?"

"Not always. She's had a busy week and I don't want to bother her."

"Oh, Maura, you worry too much about bothering people! She's your friend, and didn't you help her out with a big serial killer case a few months ago?"

"Yes, but—this is a bit different. Besides, her job is much more stressful than mine and I don't need to add to her worries just because I can't sleep. She needs her sleep more than I do."

"Maura—"

"Really, mom, it's okay. I'm fine; I just need a little distraction." Maura continued, forcing herself to speak in a lighter tone, "Why don't you tell me about what you've been up to. Are you and dad still planning on stopping over in Hawaii on your way home?"

Having successfully diverted her mother's focus, Maura continued the conversation for several more minutes. Finally, with a yawn signaling that she was feeling sleepy, Maura said goodbye and sunk back into her bed.

She had only closed her eyes for ten minutes when a noise from the street outside made her heart rate spike again. After a split second he recognized the sound of her neighbor dragging his garbage cans to the curb for the morning pickup. A dog barked. A door slammed. Maura twisted her hands in the sheets and groaned.

This time, the doctor didn't bother to try to calm herself down. Her anger at the situation, and at herself for being unable to control it, had made her impulsive. Feeling a surge of adrenaline course through her, she threw off the bedclothes and walked to her closet. Switching on the light, she pulled out a large shoulder bag and began placing items inside—clean underwear, her makeup kit, a pair of shoes. She zipped a blue dress into a garment bag and walked quietly through the house, stopping at the hallway closet to pull on a pair of boots and a coat.

As she passed through the kitchen on her way to the garage, she spoke to Bass, who had poked his head out of his shell as she approached.

"I'm going to Jane's, okay? I'll be back tomorrow, after work. I should be able to take a short day."

Maura looked down at her pet, currently hiding under a small desk she kept in the kitchen. Bass was unresponsive, as usual. That was why Jane teased her about talking to him—he never showed any signs that he had connected on any level with his owner so it seemed pointless.

_Jane_.

Sudden burst of energy abated, Maura placed her bags on the kitchen table and then sat down, gazing blankly at the silent, scaly creature.

"I'm 35 years old, talking to a tortoise in the middle of the night, on my way to wake up a friend—a friend who never gets enough sleep herself—to ask her—"

She knew what she wanted to ask Jane, but she couldn't say it out loud. Not even to a creature who would never, could never, reveal her secret.

She wanted to crawl into Jane's bed, and feel the warmth of the detective's body as strong arms wrapped around her and cradled her until she fell asleep. She felt certain that this—that Jane's skin on hers, Jane's scent overwhelming her senses, Jane's lips pressed to her forehead—would make her feel safe again.

However, she also felt certain that this urge, this compulsion, this fantasy—was irrational. She had never experienced the feeling of safety in Jane's arms, and she had no way of knowing how she would feel in such a situation. And there was no guarantee that Jane would even offer.

True, the two women had shared a bed before—twice, in fact. The second time had been an accident; they had simply fallen asleep on Jane's bed while working on a case. A platonic, albeit comfortable, accident. The time before that had been an entirely out-of-the-ordinary situation. Jane had come to _her_, asking to sleep in her spare room in order to escape both a case and her family. Maura had stayed with her until she fell asleep, and, after agonizing over whether she should stay with her friend in the guestroom or not, finally retreated to her own bed for the rest of the night.

But Jane had no spare room. There was a big difference between asking to spend the night in a friend's spare bedroom, and asking to spend it in her bed. And that is what she would essentially be doing by showing up at midnight in her pajamas with an overnight bag over her shoulder. Jane was the closest friend she had ever had, but this was a line Maura couldn't comfortably cross.

With tears stinging at her eyes, Maura retraced her steps—hanging up her coat, unpacking her bags, and sliding back into her bed.

At 1:15, she threw off the bedclothes for the third time that night, reaching out to turn on the bedside lamp. Opening a paperback novel, she read for twenty minutes before turning off the lamp yet again.

At 2:20, she counted to a thousand in Latin.

At 3:30, she tried meditating again.

At 4:15, she let hot tears cool on her cheeks.

The alarm went off at six.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: The usual disclaimer applies. I own nothing.

Chapter 2

A growling stomach reminded Jane Rizzoli that it was time for lunch. "Shit," she muttered when she realized she was twenty minutes late. Grabbing her purse, the detective headed out the door and down the stairs to the morgue, vaguely wondering why Maura hadn't called her and asked where she was.

Gingerly opening the glass door, Jane arranged her features into something she hoped looked apologetic. Expecting to see Maura sitting at her computer with a look of mock reproach on her face, she turned toward the northwest corner of the room.

What she saw instead made her stop in her tracks.

Maura Isles, ever the consummate professional, was asleep at her desk. Her head lay on her outstretched right arm, and although her face was partially obscured by a curtain of wavy hair, her lips were slightly parted and her breathing was regular, deep and even.

A slow grin spread across Jane's face as she watched her friend sleep. Her eyes sparkled as she thought of how she could use this to her advantage. Maura was always getting after her about her less-than-professional behavior in the detectives' office—she'd walked in on more than one game of trashcan basketball clucking her tongue and teasing her colleagues about their adolescent antics.

And now Maura, the impeccably dressed, neat-as-a-pin, rule-obeying Dr. Maura Isles had fallen asleep on the job.

The wrinkles in her dress were probably settling more deeply by the second. Jane giggled into the back of her hand as she began to think of the possibilities.

Jane wondered if any of the guys upstairs had some shaving cream. Or if there was any whipped cream in the fridge. There were half-a-dozen pranks just begging to be played.

She was about to go back upstairs and recruit Frost and Korsak for the job when she saw something new on the wall next to Maura's desk—a drawing of a building that she recognized immediately. It had been done by Maura's half-brother, and Jane realized that the M.E. must have kept it and framed it, to remind her of the sibling she hadn't known existed until he had been killed just a week earlier.

Jane's shoulders sagged and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Suddenly a practical joke didn't seem like such a good idea. If Maura was asleep at her desk, it couldn't be because she had carelessly let her guard down for a minute—something was bothering her. Something big enough to let exhaustion overrule her usual sense of propriety.

Jane groaned inwardly at her cluelessness. _I should have realized_, she thought. She had dealt with plenty of victims in her years as a detective, but everything was different when the victim was also your co-worker and best friend.

How do you help someone who finally finds her birth father, and it turns out he's a notorious criminal? Jane had no answer, either for herself or for Maura.

Backing away slowly, the detective turned to a panel of switches just inside the door and flipped the one that turned on a yellow light in the hall that indicated "do not disturb." Then she slipped into the hallway and closed the door gently behind her.

When she returned twenty minutes later with sandwiches from the deli down the street, Maura was still in the same position, sound asleep. Jane approached the desk cautiously, unsure of just what to do. She couldn't leave the yellow light on for too long, and she didn't want Maura to have to suffer the embarrassment of being awoken by anyone else in the precinct. Setting down a sandwich and a cup of coffee on the desk, she watched Maura sleep.

_Adorable_. Jane smiled, in spite of the situation.

Maura looked so small, tucked into her desk like that. Jane had the sudden urge to scoop her up in her arms—an urge so strong that she felt color rising to her cheeks.

Quickly looking away from the sleeping figure, Jane ran her hand through her hair and swallowed, contemplating her next move.

_I should let her sleep._

Jane sat down in an empty chair and silently scooted closer. Leaning her elbow on the desk, she watched Maura sleep. It wasn't often she got a chance to look at her friend this way, quietly, without self-consciousness.

Jane's mind wasn't quiet, however. It was racing, as was her pulse. Her thoughts were jumbled, unformed, rushing from _her nose is so cute_ to _I wonder what perfume she wears _to _god, why I am staring at her?_

Finally, _stop. Just—stop. In a second. Now! You're being creepy._

She glanced back at the door, catching a glimpse of a uniformed officer striding down the hall.

_She'll hate it if anyone sees her like this._

Jane reached out and brushed the hair off of the M.E.'s face with shaking fingers, and then gently shook her shoulder.

"Maura, wake up."

Instantly, Maura sat up straight, wincing as she felt the blood rushing into the arm she had been resting on.

"What? Oh, Jane, I—" She flexed her elbow and blinked up at Jane, the confusion and embarrassment on her face evident.

"You slept through lunch, sweetie, so I brought you a sandwich and some coffee." Jane smiled.

Maura looked at the detective sleepily and smiled back weakly. Then she turned away, trying to regain her composure. "I was just," began Maura, clearing her throat, "resting my eyes." Looking up, she found the expected smirk on Jane's face. Her own mouth turned up at the corner before she could stop it.

"Uh huh." Jane gave Maura's shoulder a squeeze before pulling her hand away.

"Sorry about lunch, though," said Maura, stifling a yawn.

"That's okay, no big deal. I don't mind eating in."

Maura took a sip of the coffee Jane had brought. "Mmm, that's perfect. Thanks."

"No problem." Jane began unwrapping her own sandwich, and then asked, "So what's going on? It's not like you to fall asleep at your desk."

Maura looked stricken, and Jane instantly regretted her question. She backpedalled. "I mean, we all take naps, Maura—in this business you have to sleep when you can. I was just surprised because you're, uh, usually—I mean, I've never seen you sleeping down here before."

Maura sighed. "I know. I've just been struggling with insomnia lately."

"Lately?"

"Since the whole thing with my birth father."

"I thought we agreed to call him the sperm donor?" Jane smirked.

Maura gave a half smile. "It doesn't matter what you call him, Jane, his very existence has made me question everything I knew about myself and my life."

Jane sighed. Maura wasn't going to let her joke her way around the issue. "I know, Maura, but we've talked about this—"

The doctor cut Jane off before she could go any further. "I know you know, Jane, and I know you'll tell me that I'm still the same person no matter what my DNA is, but I don't think that's really what's bothering me. The things that happened between us—between Doyle and me—bother me."

"What do you mean? You barely spoke with the man." Jane couldn't bring herself to say his name.

"Did you know that I've never had nightmares about dead bodies?"

Jane's brow furrowed as she tried to follow Maura's train of thought. "So? I don't think I have either—"

"But I'm a medical examiner, Jane. I've seen bodies in horrible states—so horrible that no one should have to see the human body that way. But it never bothered me psychologically; never got under my skin so much that I ever had nightmares about it. But I have nightmares about him, now. When I can actually sleep, that is."

Maura took a sip of coffee.

"All of my life I've been independent," continued the doctor, her voice rising in pitch and her words coming faster. "I went to boarding school when I was ten. After my junior year of undergraduate I got my own apartment and I've lived alone ever since. It's _never_ bothered me to be alone."

"But now, it does?"

Maura nodded, looking away from Jane, and when she spoke again her voice betrayed her bitterness. "Every little noise I hear spooks me. I'm afraid to walk near the windows at night, in case someone's out there, watching me."

"Maura, I really don't think anyone knows you're his daughter—and if they did, they'd have to be crazy to try anything. You know we've done our homework on this right? If you were in danger, I would—I mean, we would do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

"Of course, I understand that. At least, logically I understand that." Maura bit her lip and looked thoughtful for a moment. "But it's not Doyle's enemies I'm worried about, it's Doyle himself. I still can't get over the fact that he's been watching me for my whole life, and I didn't even know it. He knew me well enough to kidnap me—right out of the morgue. In the basement of the _police station_, Jane. How can I ever feel safe again?"

Jane reached across the desk and took Maura's hands in both of hers. "Maura, look at me." Maura looked up, and held Jane's gaze. "I know _exactly_ how you feel."

Maura did not react to that statement at all the way Jane had expected. The doctor closed her eyes, pulled her hands away, and stood up. She rubbed her eyes and spoke, her words slightly muffled from holding her hands in front of her face.

"I know you know, Jane." The sentence came out as a sigh, a groan. "I'm not the first person in the world to have something bad happen to them. I just thought I would be able to handle it better." She dropped her hands to her sides, unconsciously smoothing her skirt. "Why am I having such a hard time handling this?" Maura sat back down in the chair, and gave Jane a pleading look. "I'm not usually like this. I'm . . . not supposed to be like this."

"You are handling it, Maura, you are. I'm not trying to make light of what you went through by saying I know how you feel—"

"God, Jane, I know, I'm sorry, I know that's not what you're saying—I know I'm not making any sense—and I'm being whiny and needy and—"

"Just listen a second, Maura, please?" Jane took Maura's hands again, trying desperately to reassure her. "I'm just saying that I _know you_, and you're strong enough to handle this. But it takes time, you know?"

Maura nodded, and exhaled. "Yes, I know."

"But you really need to get some sleep. Everyone's overly emotional when they aren't getting enough sleep. Even Maura Isles the cyborg." Maura laughed quietly at that, and looked slightly more relaxed.

Jane took a deep breath and squeezed Maura's fingers. "Listen, why don't I stay over at your place this weekend? We should be wrapping up this case tonight, and maybe having someone else in the house will help you sleep. Or at least I can be a distraction. I know I can do that well enough, if nothing else." Jane gave a little snort.

"Thank you, Jane, but that's not necessary—"

"I know it's not necessary," said Jane lightly, "but it'll be fun. C'mon, Maur, please let's have a sleepover? I'll bring wine and chocolate . . . and you can paint my toenails if you want."

Maura grinned. She couldn't say no to that.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: The usual disclaimer applies. I own nothing.

Chapter 3

Maura felt lighter after her lunch with Jane.

As she went about her work, she found her mind wandering, thinking about how the weekend would go—whether she had enough fresh food in the house or if Jane would want to go out for meals; if she had changed the sheets in the guestroom recently; if Jane liked eggs for breakfast or just cereal.

She was so caught up in her plans she almost forgot the reason why Jane was staying over.

Maura was finishing up her work for the day when Jane called to say there had been a few snags in the case and she would be late. Maura told her she would have some food ready for her at the house, whenever she was able to get away.

At home, Maura busied herself getting ready for her guest. She cleaned, cooked, and cleaned again.

At eight, the phone rang again. It was going to be at least another couple of hours, so Jane offered to send Frankie over.

"If I tell him that your satellite dish picks up Canadian hockey, he'll jump at the chance to come over. And he knows what it's like to—I mean, after everything with Hoyt, he wouldn't mind at all. And you could sleep if you knew Frankie was there, right? He's a good cop, Maura."

Trying to make her voice sound even, Maura replied, "Of course he's a good cop, I adore Frankie and it's very sweet of you to offer but I'll be fine until you get here, really."

Maura hung up the phone, shaking her head and wondering what had possessed Jane to offer to send Frankie over, like she was a child in need of a babysitter.

_I want Jane here, not . . ._

_Not . . . anyone else_.

Clarity washed over Maura slowly. She sank into the couch, suddenly feeling dizzy.

If this were just about being afraid that Doyle or some other unsavory character was stalking her, she would be fine with Frankie hanging out on her couch while she slept. She was so exhausted, it shouldn't matter who was standing guard.

But it did matter. She didn't want a bodyguard or a babysitter, she wanted Jane.

She began to wonder, horrified, if she had somehow invented her fears and even her insomnia as an excuse to get Jane's attention.

Or perhaps not invented, but exaggerated. Conflated. Twisted.

The thought was terrible and thrilling, all at the same time.

On the phone the night before, her mother had asked her if the insomnia was as bad as it had been in medical school. What she could have said, but hadn't, was that no, it wasn't as bad, because then the insomnia was the result of being in the middle of a rather complicated love affair with one of her professors.

She hadn't told her mother about the affair, and there seemed to be no reason to bring it up years after the fact. Besides, this time, there was no love affair.

This time, there was . . . something else.

Something else that she couldn't define, couldn't articulate. But even Maura Isles the cyborg knew it felt a lot like love.

Illicit love.

Love that couldn't happen because it would ruin everything.

_Besides, I'm not . . . and she's definitely not . . . _

Maura stood up abruptly. She decided that the kitchen floor needed to be mopped; the cleaning lady had been in on Tuesday but Bass often left marks on the tile.

Sliding the mop back and forth across the floor, she formulated a plan.

When Jane arrived just after ten, Maura had finished the floor, showered, plowed through several journal articles while taking meticulous notes, and gotten ready for bed. She ushered the detective into the guest room, told her to make herself at home, and retreated to her own bedroom, certain that with a little careful breathing and meditation, she would fall asleep in no time. After a good night's sleep and perhaps a nice breakfast, she could convince Jane that she was fine and that she didn't need a babysitter for the weekend.

Then things would go back to normal on Monday.

* * *

><p>Jane tried to stay awake, intending to peek in on Maura and make sure she was asleep before going to bed herself, but the guest bed was amazingly comfortable and the long week had taken its toll on her. She dozed with the lamp on, stretched out on top of the comforter, letting one of Maura's novels land unread next to her.<p>

She did not fall deeply into sleep, however, and when a noise from outside the room woke her she sat up, alert, and reached instinctively for her gun. Listening at the crack in the door, she recognized Maura's footsteps in the kitchen and put her weapon back on the nightstand.

According to the clock on the wall it was nearly two in the morning and Maura was apparently still awake.

Jane found her standing at the sink with a glass of water. The doctor turned around, startled, when Jane came in from the hallway. Maura's eyes were tired, swollen. It was clear there had been tears. Her face was tense with worry.

"It's okay, it's just me." Jane gave a half smile, holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I know—I mean, I knew it was you, but I—" The doctor looked away absently. "I had a plan, Jane. But it didn't work. I still can't sleep." Maura set her water glass on the counter, avoiding Jane's eyes. "Sorry I woke you up, I tried to be quiet."

For the second time that day, Jane had the impulse to take Maura in her arms. This time, worried and tired and feeling powerless to do anything else, she gave in to the impulse. Crossing the room in three long strides, she put her arms around her friend and held her close.

Maura stiffened at first, and made a slight sound of protest, but then surrendered when Jane's arms only tightened around her. Her body went limp as she leaned against the taller woman, resting her head on Jane's shoulder.

Neither woman said anything for a long time. Jane ran her fingers through Maura's hair. Maura listened to Jane's heartbeat. They both breathed.

Jane's gravelly voice finally broke the silence. "Did you know I used to sleepwalk?"

Maura leaned her head back so that she could look at Jane, but kept her arms clasped firmly around Jane's torso. "I'm not sleepwalking, Jane," said Maura, her voice flat. "I wish I was sleepwalking, because then it would mean I was, you know, asleep."

Jane chuckled, and Maura felt a little lightheaded from the thrill of hearing and feeling Jane's laugh at the same time.

"I know you're not asleep, sweetie. What I was going to say, was, that sometimes when I was a kid my parents would find me wandering around the house babbling about something. My mom would give me this look, and I knew she thought I was asleep, so I would start to cry and yell at her that I wasn't asleep and that I had something very important to tell her. She would just take me by the shoulders and guide me back to my room, while I cried and whined, 'I'm not asleep, ma, I'm not asleep!' Something like that. She just ignored me and put me back in bed, and then lay there next to me until I settled down."

"So," said Jane, pulling away and taking Maura by the shoulders, "that is what we are going to do with you." She gently turned the doctor around, and began steering her down the hall.

Predictably, Maura protested. "Jane, it's okay—you don't have to—"

"I know, I know, I'm ignoring whatever you say though, and putting you back to bed." Jane kept her hand at the small of Maura's back, not breaking contact until they reached the bed and Maura scooted over onto the far side. Out of habit, she turned away from the light coming from the hallway, and from her friend. Jane followed and slid behind her, close enough so that Maura would know she was there, but without actually touching her.

"Wait," said Maura suddenly, accusingly, "if you were asleep, how do you remember these sleepwalking episodes?" She twisted her head so she could see the woman behind her. "Jane, did you make that story up just to make me feel better?"

"What? No! I have no idea why I remember, but I do! I would always remember the whole thing in the morning, and my mom would tease me about it." Jane's voice grew more serious as she dug deeper into her memory, and she reached out and began stroking Maura's arm. Up with the backs of her fingers, lightly tickling with her short nails; down with the pads of her fingertips; up again; down again.

"I distinctly remember this feeling that I _had_ to tell my parents something important, and that I had to convince them that I was awake so that I could tell them. In the morning I always recognized that I had actually been asleep, but that feeling of panic at not being able to say what I wanted to say would stay with me all day."

Maura remained silent for a few moments, distracted by the sensations being produced by Jane's caresses. Jane's fingers strayed under the edge of her sleeve, pushing the fabric toward her shoulder. Maura closed her eyes and willed her to go higher, further . . .

Maura shook herself mentally. _She's not . . . I'm not . . . But this feels . . . _

Jane's fingers stopped.

"I have dreams like that all the time," whispered Maura, hoping that Jane hadn't fallen asleep, praying that her fingers would begin their circuitous journey once again.

"What do you mean?"

Up . . . down; up . . . down. Jane's hand, Jane's fingers. Her toes met Maura's beneath the sheets.

_What's happening? Are we crossing a line here? Right now?_

Maura took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, stretching her body and letting a leg tangle between Jane's. "I dream that there is something happening that only I know about, and I have to tell everyone but no one will listen to me. No matter how much I yell at them."

"Huh," grunted Jane. "Care to analyze these dreams of ours, Dr. Isles?"

"It doesn't seem very complicated, Jane. It means we just want to be heard. It's funny that we would both have similar dreams, though."

"Why is that funny?" Jane stilled her hand, but then draped her arm lightly across the smaller woman's waist, inching her whole body closer to Maura's as she did so.

Maura swallowed audibly before answering. She felt the heat radiating from Jane's body on her skin, and felt both warm and cold at the same time. "I guess, it's funny, because we're so—so, different, but there are some aspects of our personalities that are quite similar—obviously. I mean, compatible, or, maybe, complementary." Maura knew she was babbling, but Jane seemed to understand what she was saying.

"I guess that's why we're friends, huh?"

"Yes, I believe it is." Maura let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

After another brief silence, Jane spoke, her voice just above a whisper. "It gets better, you know. Easier."

"What do you mean?" Maura was finding it impossible to follow even the simplest logic.

"I mean, it won't be long before you'll be able to sleep without a nightlight. You'll stop startling at every noise. It takes awhile, but you'll be okay."

Maura bit her lip, holding back the tears that had been threatening all night. "I don't know if I'm strong enough for this, Jane," she whispered. "Any of this," she added tentatively, still not quite sure if this conversation had a deeper meaning.

"I never thought I was, either. Don't you remember what a pathetic mess I was when Hoyt was after me?"

"You weren't pathetic." Maura sniffed.

"Yes, I was. But don't tell Korsak I said that. Or Frost. Or Frankie. Or . . . anyone, really."

Maura chuckled.

"You'll get through it, Maura. We'll get through it."

Jane tightened her grip around Maura yet again, and Maura leaned back, sinking into Jane's torso, feeling her whole body relax, finally.

_I knew I would feel safe in Jane's arms_.

_And her breasts are so very soft._

That was her last coherent thought before she drifted off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: The usual disclaimer applies. I own nothing.

Chapter 4

Jane woke first, surprised by the feeling of Maura's hair tickling her nose. She inhaled deeply, Maura's scent making her feel dizzy. Slowly, reluctantly, she slid away from the still-sleeping doctor.

It was one thing to comfort a friend in the middle of the night, another to snuggle with her while the sun was up.

Jane pushed thoughts of how good Maura's body had felt next to hers to the back of her mind, and went back to the guestroom for a shower.

Two hours later, Maura was still sleeping and Jane was bored. She peeked into the master bedroom and found Maura sprawled out in the middle of the bed. Jane walked over and tapped her shoulder.

"Maura, you should probably wake up now. It's 10:30." She sat cross-legged on the bed.

Maura stretched and let out a long breath. "Ooh, Jane, I slept!"

"Feel better?"

"So much better. Thank you." She reached out and laid her hand across Jane's knee. "Did you say it's 10:30? I can't believe I slept that long."

"Yep." Jane stretched out so that the two women lay side by side, face to face.

"Mmm, you smell good," murmured Maura sleepily, "Did you shower already?"

"Yeah, and I had some cereal and coffee too. I hope that's okay."

"Of course." Maura suddenly opened her eyes wide as she awakened more fully, and she put her hand over her mouth. "Oh, I must look terrible, and I haven't brushed my teeth—"

"You look fine, and you smell fine," protested Jane. "You always do." She reached out and ran her fingers through Maura's hair, once, twice, three times. "You do have a little bed-head though," she smirked.

Maura swatted her hand away and laughed.

"So what do you want to do today, Dr. Isles?"

"Don't you have anything you have to do? Something with your family?"

"Nope. I took Jo over to ma and pop's yesterday and told them I would be spending the weekend with you. My apartment's a mess and I haven't been grocery shopping in about a month, but what's new?" Jane shrugged her shoulders. "I don't want to do anything that even remotely resembles work today."

"That sounds like a great plan. Nothing responsible or productive or—adult."

"Really?" Jane's tone was playful. "You don't want to read your latest issue of _Autopsy Today_, or clean anything, or do yoga?"

"There is no such publication as _Autopsy Today_, Jane. That would be a rather inappropriate title." Maura narrowed her eyes at the chuckling detective.

"We should have a bubble day," Maura suddenly exclaimed, with a note of finality in her voice.

"And what's that, some sort of spa treatment? Because you're on your own with _that_," said Jane, rolling her eyes.

Now it was Maura's turn to chuckle. "No, a bubble day was something my mother made up. Sometimes when I was home from boarding school, we would spend the day together doing whatever we wanted. She said we were pretending that we could float above the world, ignoring everyone and everything. Just for a day."

"Sounds perfect," murmured Jane. Maura rarely talked about her childhood, and Jane was surprised to hear such a sweet memory about the Isles family.

"So, if we are doing whatever we want, what are we going to do?"

"Well," said Maura with a twinkle in her eye and a lilt in her voice, "I did have a thought."

"Of course you did. I don't know if I want to hear this."

Maura ignored her. "You did say, yesterday, that you would let me paint your toenails . . ."

"Really, Maura? That's what you want to do on your day off? Play around with my nasty old feet?"

Maura reached out and grabbed for Jane's foot, but the detective kicked her away, giggling.

"No," said the doctor, "I don't really want to paint your toenails myself. But what if we went to get mani-pedis? I know a great place that can probably squeeze us in."

Jane sighed, resigned to her fate. "I guess I can handle that. But can we go for a late lunch after? And I get to pick the place?"

"That seems fair. But I get to veto any place that looks—unsanitary."

Jane laughed. "Okay. I promise the place I have in mind will be up to your ever-exacting standards, doctor."

Maura smiled, and then her eyes turned serious.

"But Jane, there's one more thing I should tell you about bubble day."

Somehow, the two women had inched close together again, close enough so that their legs were touching. Maura reached out and began stroking Jane's hair, and let her thumb graze against the shell of her ear and the smooth skin of her cheek.

Jane felt like she had lost her voice—she could only give a weak, "hmm?" in reply.

"Your skin is so soft, Jane, what kind of moisturizer do you use?"

Jane swallowed. Maura was so baffling sometimes. "I don't know—something from the store."

Maura smiled and cupped Jane's cheek, running the pad of her thumb along Jane's chin.

Jane watched Maura's eyes, watched them run over her own features, watched the smile at the corner of her lips, and wondered what the hell was happening.

Suddenly Maura seemed to return to herself. She moved her hand back into Jane's hair.

"The thing about bubble day—it can't last. It's just one day. Is that okay with you?" Maura's voice was quiet, serious. She stilled her fingers, but Jane was acutely aware of the pressure of her hand on the back of her neck.

Confused, Jane snorted, and then searched Maura's face for a clue as to how she was supposed to respond. She found none, and just blurted out whatever came to her. "Well, I figured that. We can't afford to take every day off. At least, I can't."

Maura gave her a sad smile. Jane didn't know what it meant, and she had a feeling she didn't want to find out. Then, before she could ask anything else, Maura slipped out of the bed and began getting ready for the day.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Jane was admiring her fingers as she and Maura walked across the gravel driveway of a restaurant forty minutes outside the city.<p>

"I kinda like my nails like this, you know?" She held her hand out in front of her, examining her new French tips.

Maura gave a little squeal. "Ooh, good. Now we can go to the salon together every month!"

"Well, I don't know about that. But we'll see." Jane felt so happy she wasn't sure if she could deny her friend anything at that point. Her goals for the weekend—to help Maura overcome her insomnia, and to distract her from her morose thoughts about her birth father—seemed to have been achieved. She was confident that Maura had thoroughly enjoyed her girly day at the nail salon, and it made Jane happy that Maura was happy.

Then, there was the fact that they couldn't keep their hands off each other. They had always had a sort of touchy-feely relationship, but this was . . . something else. Never before had Maura's touch made her . . . feel things.

Things that made her blush.

Things that made her . . .

She couldn't say it. She couldn't even _think_ it.

Jane had no idea what was going on, but she decided to just go with it.

"What is this place, Jane?" Maura looked dubiously at the rustic décor on the outside of the building.

"I told you, it's a place we used to come to on our way to Vermont for summer camping trips. It doesn't look like much, but the food is really good, Maura, trust me." She casually slung her arm around the doctor's shoulders. "The best rolls you ever had in your life."

"Rolls? We drove all the way out here for rolls?"

"Yep. And cornbread."

Maura still looked dubious.

When they walked into the restaurant, they were met at the door by an older woman in a flowered apron.

"Just the two of you?"

Jane nodded. "Yeah. Can we get a table by the window?"

"Of course, at this hour you can practically have the place to yourselves." The hostess gave a friendly smile and began leading them toward the back of the restaurant. Sure enough, only a few other tables were occupied.

As the two women slid into a booth with a beautiful view of the distant mountains, the hostess suddenly exclaimed, "Oh! You're Angela Rizzoli's daughter, aren't you?"

Jane smiled, and nodded. "Yeah, we used to come here every summer when I was a kid."

"Yes, you and your adorable little brothers."

"Adorable—that's one word for them," said Jane sarcastically.

"I recognized you by your hair—and you were always so tall, for a girl." Jane gave Maura a look, and the doctor had to stifle a laugh.

"Yeah, that's me," said Jane, lamely.

"Well, it's good to see you again. Now, what can I bring you and your girlfriend to drink?"

Both women froze. Jane recovered first.

"Uh, we'll both just have diet cokes. Hers with a lime, mine just plain."

"Coming right up. And your food will be out shortly." The hostess bustled away, leaving Jane and Maura in an awkward silence.

"Jane, did she just—"

"Yeah, I think she did." Jane let out a long breath, and ran her fingers through her hair. Then she grinned, and looked Maura in the eye. Reaching out across the table, she took the doctor's hand.

"You know what? It's bubble day. Who cares?"

Maura visibly relaxed, and smiled back.

Then she tensed up again. "Wait, did she just say the food will be out shortly? We didn't order anything—and where are the menus?"

Jane laughed. "This is a type of dining you probably haven't experienced before. They just bring everyone the same food—barbecue chicken, ribs, beans, coleslaw, rolls, and cornbread. All you can eat."

Maura's eyes went wide. "Seriously?"

"Yup. You got me to go for a mani-pedi, Maura. Did you think I was going to take you to the Ritz?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Oh, and there's one more thing." Jane was enjoying herself immensely. "The food comes in buckets."

Maura sighed. "I am never letting you take me anywhere again, Jane Rizzoli."

"I think you'll be thinking differently after you taste the rolls, Maura Isles."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: The usual disclaimer applies. I own nothing.

Chapter 5

"I told you the rolls were good."

Maura met Jane's gaze with a look of feigned innocence on her face, knowing she had just stolen the last one from the basket. "They are quite good, I have to admit. And who knew eating meat with your hands would be so enjoyable?"

"Especially when it comes in buckets," teased Jane, dropping the bone she had just finished gnawing on into one of said buckets. "But I think this meal is going to have to count for lunch and dinner, because my ass is getting bigger as we speak."

"I'm not eating again until Monday," said Maura matter-of-factly, swallowing her last mouthful of fluffy white roll.

"Save a little room for dessert though," cautioned Jane, licking barbecue sauce from her fingers.

Maura groaned. "After all this—that woman is going to be bringing out dessert too?" She scanned the empty restaurant, expecting to see their floral-aproned waitress arrive with a selection of pies or cakes or something else completely sinful.

"Not here—back at your place. I promised you chocolate, remember? I brought you some truffles last night, which you would have noticed if you hadn't been so anxious to get me into bed."

Jane took a drink of soda and then glanced up to find Maura staring at her with a look of panic on her face.

"Is that what you thought . . ."

Jane's eyes went wide as she realized what she had said. "No! I meant, if you hadn't been so anxious _to get to bed_. To sleep. I mean, I totally get it, you really needed to sleep, right? I—didn't mean anything—I'm sorry, Maura." Jane looked deflated, but the doctor looked relieved.

"Okay, because I—"

"I know—it's all good." Jane waved her hand as if she could dismiss the subject that way, and took another drink. She wracked her brain, searching for something else to talk about.

"So, why don't you tell me more about bubble day, you know, with your mom? I always pictured you spending your summers poring over books and visiting museums. I didn't imagine there would be much room for fun in the Isles household."

Maura looked grateful for the change of subject, and answered readily. "I think that's why we had bubble days—my mom wanted to get me away from my studies for awhile. She knew I could be a little obsessive about schoolwork and such, just like my father, and I think it made her a little sad."

"Sad? Why? I thought she was an art historian—she must have had to study a lot too."

"Yes, she was—and still is—an art historian. But she was never quite so fanatical about her work as my dad. She wanted a more balanced life, I think. She gave a lot up to be with my dad, and to be the person he wanted her to be."

Jane looked confused. "Wait, I thought they were both professors? What did your mom have to give up?"

Maura shook her head. "My mom wasn't a professor. She has her master's degree, and she worked as a curator at an art museum for most of the time I was growing up. My dad was a professor of political science at BCU. But that's not what I meant."

Maura paused to take a sip of soda. She hesitated, but Jane looked at her expectantly, so she continued.

"You know my parents are—um, fairly well off, financially, right?"

Jane snorted. "Um, yeah. I kind of figured that out during the whole Garrett Fairfield affair. Case. So?"

Maura still hesitated, so Jane reached for her hand. "I don't mind you talking about your money, Maura. I want to hear about your family—you almost never talk about them."

Maura squeezed Jane's fingers and smiled. "Well, my dad was the one who came from money. A lot of it." Still nervous about Jane's reaction, her eyes flitted away from Jane's, but she continued. "He met my mom when they were both in graduate school. She came from a middle-class background, and was not the kind of woman my dad was expected to bring home. But they fell in love anyway," said Maura, shrugging her shoulders.

"And . . ." prompted Jane.

"They got married after my mom finished her master's degree. She had planned to go on for a PhD, but at that time marriage usually meant the end of a woman's education. Formal education, anyway. Her new full-time job was taking care of my dad so that he would have adequate time for his work, and learning how to be a socialite."

"So all of the stuff you know about fashion and clothes and fish knives, you learned over a lifetime . . ."

"But she had to learn it all overnight so that she could fit into my father's social circle." Maura nodded.

"And you think she was unhappy." Jane's tone was flat.

Maura considered that briefly. "No, I don't. I know my parents loved each other—quite a lot actually. I don't think she resented the sacrifices, but every once in awhile I got the feeling that there were some things she missed about her old life that she wanted me to experience. So she came up with bubble days. The only problem was, she had also begun training me from the time I was tiny how to live in an elite world, so when I took time off from my studies I usually gravitated toward shopping or spa treatments."

Jane smiled. "Of course you did."

"I know, it's such a big surprise." Maura squeezed Jane's fingers again, suddenly realizing they were still holding hands across the table. "I don't think mom minded, though. She did enjoy the finer things, and we had fun together, in our own way."

"So you don't think your mom regretted marrying above her station, and giving up her middle-class life?" Jane blurted out the question without thinking.

Maura looked across the table at the detective. She pulled her hands away, and crossed her arms in front of her chest before answering.

"I don't know; it's not the kind of thing we would ever discuss."

"Maura." Jane used a tone of voice that she knew always got through to the doctor. "You must have some idea, though?"

Maura answered with a sigh. "I can honestly say that at this point in her life I believe she has no regrets. But it took a very long time for her to be accepted by my father's family, and by his friends. I remember some incident that happened just after I graduated from medical school when some woman she was on a committee with suggested that her judgment on a certain matter was probably compromised because of her _background_. All those years later, and they still remembered that she didn't come from money." Maura shook her head.

"I try very hard not to be like that, you know." She looked directly at Jane then, her eyes saying more than her words.

"I know, sweetie, you are nothing like that." Jane smiled sincerely, but then her expression turned serious again. "Your parents' experiences must have had some impact on the way that you see relationships though, right? You must have thought about money and social status a lot more than most people."

Maura bit her lip and said nothing.

For some reason, Jane pushed, even though she could tell it might make Maura uncomfortable. With this new level of intimacy they had reached during the weekend, she felt like she had to know.

"Come on, Maura, tell me." Throwing caution to the wind, she suddenly stood up and with a quick glance around the room slid into the other side of the booth, next to her friend. Leaning her elbow on the table, she asked, "Is that why you broke up with Garrett? Because you were worried about becoming one of those—snobs?" Jane said the last word almost in a whisper, hoping she wasn't being indelicate.

Maura shook her head vigorously and answered quickly. "No, that had nothing to do with it."

Jane waited for a brief moment, studying Maura's features. It was easy to tell that she wasn't lying—technically. "Then, what? I can tell there's something else."

"Some_one_ else," said Maura, slowly. She reached out and began stroking Jane's arm. Absently, she moved her hand up, and down. Up; down.

Jane watched Maura's fingers and cleared her throat. "You've never mentioned any other boyfriends besides Garrett."

"Don't sound so surprised, Jane. Did you think I haven't had sex with anyone else since Garrett?"

Jane felt herself blushing. She stammered out a reply. "Well, no, I mean, yes. I mean, I figured you'd had _sex_, Maura; I was there when you dated Brock, remember—"

"I didn't have sex with Brock."

Jane was taken aback. "You didn't? Why not? I mean—never mind. We're getting off the subject here. I know you've dated other—um, _people_," she muttered in a low voice, "but you hadn't really talked about any other _relationships_."

"Well, there was one other serious relationship. In medical school."

"Uh huh. And, was it a, um . . ." She wanted to ask, she needed to know, but couldn't bring herself to do it.

"He was one of my professors." Maura moved her hands to her lap.

Jane let out a long breath. She didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. "A professor? You've been holding out on me, Mrs. Robinson." Jane snorted. "Actually, the opposite of Mrs. Robinson, but you know what I mean." Jane looked at Maura's puzzled face. "Or maybe you don't. But it doesn't matter—go on."

"His name was Dr. Stewart—"

"You slept with the man and you still call him Dr. Stewart?"

Maura felt the color rising to her cheeks. "I guess I do still think of him that way, yes." She buried her face in her hands. "God, it's such a cliché, isn't it? Thank goodness I didn't marry him."

"Marry him? He asked you to marry him too? Who knew you were such a heartbreaker."

Maura acknowledged Jane's teasing with a smirk. "Garrett and Dr. Stewart—_Philip_—were the only two, if you must know. And I considered both proposals very seriously. Philip insisted that we could make it work—that despite breaking all the rules, and risking both of our careers, it would be worth it."

"And I guess you didn't think so, or you would be having this conversation with some doctor's wife instead of a homicide detective." Jane gave a little laugh.

"I weighed all of the options carefully. I decided it wasn't worth the risk."

"Wow. You 'weighed all the options.' You say that like you were deciding between buying a Ford or a Chevy. Or in your case, a Benz or a Cadillac. Did your feelings toward him factor into the equation at all?"

Maura narrowed her eyes at Jane, wondering if she was being teased. When she saw that the detective was serious, she answered sincerely. "Of course they did. I decided that my feelings for him weren't enough. They weren't strong enough, that is. And, frankly, I didn't want to go through the same kinds of things that my mother had. I didn't want someone bringing up the fact that I had married my professor, ten or twenty years after the fact."

"But—did you love him, Maura?"

The doctor considered the question for a moment. "I did. But I still have no regrets about my decision. I mean, he was a very skilled lover, but who knows if that would have lasted." She sighed wistfully.

"Maura!" hissed Jane, looking around as though someone might be eavesdropping on their conversation.

"What? He was!" Maura's tone became low and confiding. "He used to do this thing—"

Jane covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut tightly, ignoring the chill and sudden stab of jealousy running through her. "I don't want to hear it, Maura!"

Maura pulled Jane's hands off of her ears, laughing. "I'm just teasing you, Jane! I wasn't going to say anything . . . _explicit_." Maura looked quite proud of herself for the reaction she had gotten out of Jane. "You always blush and fidget when I talk about sex, but I promise I'm not _trying_ to make you uncomfortable.

"You aren't?"

"Well, maybe a little." The smirk on her lips appeared again.

"But Jane," she continued, looking pointedly at the detective, her face serious again, "I also don't regret breaking up with him, because then I wouldn't be sitting here with you." Quickly, she leaned over and left a lingering kiss on Jane's cheek.

The detective grinned goofily, feeling herself blushing.

"Well, I'm glad you're here with me too." She could not wipe the grin off her face, and she just stared at the woman in front of her. She reached out and tucked a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear.

All of a sudden, it hit Jane—hard—how close together they were sitting, and how Maura's eyes kept glancing at her lips.

_Oh god, I want to kiss her. So much._

_But she's not . . . and I'm not . . ._

"Detective, you're blushing again."

Jane swallowed, and straightened up. "Oh. Well, it's kind of warm in here, isn't it?" Heart pounding, she reached across the table for her water glass and took a gulp. When she looked back at Maura, she couldn't read her expression—couldn't tell if she was relieved or disappointed or just—comfortable.

"I guess we should get going, huh?" Jane took another gulp of water. "I should probably go for a run when we get home, burn off some of these calories."

"Yes, good idea. The exercise will probably help me sleep too." Maura reached for her purse.

Before scooting out of the booth, Jane put her arm around the doctor and gave her a squeeze, which turned into an awkward side hug. Jane groaned inwardly; she felt completely out of her element with what was happening between them.

But that didn't mean she wanted it to end. When she took Maura's hand to help her out from behind the table, she didn't let go. They walked to the car, hand in hand, sharing a smile when they saw the hostess watching them.

Swinging Maura's hand in the late afternoon sunshine, Jane grinned and practically shouted, "Man, I love bubble day."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: The usual disclaimer applies. I own nothing.

Chapter 6

After a long run and quick showers, the detective and the doctor opened a bottle of wine and the truffles Jane had brought the night before. They stayed up late, laughing through five episodes of _Fawlty Towers_. Maura had been horrified to learn that Jane had never seen the classic British comedy before, and soon they were both snorting with laughter. The slight buzz from the wine only made the show funnier.

The laughter died down significantly after the third episode, however.

Jane found herself watching Maura more than she was watching the TV. They were sitting side by side on the couch, but the touches and smiles that had come so easily throughout the day had not continued. After holding hands during the car ride all the way home, a sudden shyness had sprung up between them and they were keeping their distance from each other.

Jane desperately wanted to touch Maura though, and from the way their eyes met every so often she was pretty sure that Maura wanted to touch her too. But here, alone, on the couch late at night? What exactly would that mean?

They were both delaying the inevitable. Jane was going to stay over; there was no question about that. But either she would stay in the guest room and the bubble day would be over, or she would stay in Maura's bed and there was a very real possibility that something new would begin.

Jane was terrified. Anxious. And, she couldn't deny it any longer: _turned on_.

So she fidgeted with the couch pillow she was holding against her stomach and pushed the play button for one more episode.

In the end, it was Maura who made the decision.

"Okay, detective, I've had enough Basil and Sybil for one night. Time for bed?"

Jane yawned overdramatically. "Yeah, definitely." She hauled herself up off the couch, and reached out to pull Maura up as well. She had one last delay tactic—she picked up the wine glasses and headed for the kitchen. Maura followed her, taking the glasses and rinsing them out while Jane stood there with her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, rocking on her heels.

She was going to have to ask. She did it quickly, as soon as Maura turned her back to dry her hands on a dishtowel.

"So . . . I'm not trying to get you into bed or anything, but do you want me to stay with you again tonight, or should I sleep down the hall?" Jane hoped her voice sounded light, despite the deeper meaning behind the question.

Maura stood up straight, and put the towel down. Jane would later wonder if the doctor had made the decision right then, or if it had already been made hours—or even days—before.

Maura turned around slowly. She looked at Jane, bit her lip, and looked away. Without catching Jane's eye again, she stepped close and took her hand. Still looking away, she aligned her body with Jane's, resting her head on the detective's shoulder just as she had the night before.

But this wasn't about fear and comfort, this was . . . something else.

Jane's free arm immediately went around Maura's waist. It felt unbelievably good to touch her, smell her, feel her.

"I want you to stay with me," whispered Maura.

Jane closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay. That's kind of what I was hoping you would say."

It was the closest they had come to admitting their feelings towards each other.

Jane stroked Maura's back. Up; down. Up; down. Maura rested her hand on Jane's hip, then let her fingers roam upward, tentatively, caressing bare skin. Meanwhile, she nuzzled the detective's neck, letting her lips graze whatever skin they could reach.

When Jane heard Maura whisper her name, softly, not once but twice, she felt her blood quicken and suddenly she did not want to be standing in the kitchen. Or standing at all. She swallowed and pulled away.

"My stuff is in the other room—I'll be out in a minute, okay?"

"Okay." Maura stepped back, squeezed Jane's hand, and disappeared down the hall.

Jane walked to the guestroom, her heart beating so strongly she could feel it in her ears. She felt like she was watching someone else—some other braver, luckier woman—changing into pajamas and brushing her teeth. She brushed and brushed and brushed, delaying again.

She even ran a brush through her hair.

Maura was already in bed, the sheet pulled up only to her waist. She was wearing a tight tank top for pajamas, and the appearance of so much gorgeous skin nearly made Jane gasp as she walked through the door and closed it behind her. Before she could make her voice work, Maura murmured, "Can you turn off the light?"

Jane flipped the switch and then stood stock still in the dark.

"Are you coming?"

"Yeah, I can't see, give me a second." She felt like an idiot, shuffling her way across the room until her knee hit the mattress.

But then she was in the bed with her arms around the most beautiful woman in the world and nothing else mattered.

They watched each other as their eyes adjusted to the darkness. Maura's fingers traced a path across Jane's cheek, down her neck, and finally wound into her hair.

They settled closer against each other, until their foreheads met. Jane was very aware of the fact that their breasts were touching. The softness of Maura's body was amazing, revelatory. She loved the way that Maura fit against her, loved the feeling of being able to enfold her completely within her arms. Loved that she was _small_, and smooth, and warm.

She wanted to say something—try to explain how she felt, what she felt, and how much she wanted this. But there were no words. Instead, Jane stroked Maura's cheek, finally leaning in and nuzzling against her neck, inhaling deeply.

She pulled back after a long moment. "Maura," she whispered.

"Hmm," Maura murmured, as she moved to place their cheeks side by side, letting her lips graze ever-so-slightly against Jane's skin.

"Maura, I—"

Maura waited, softly rubbing their cheeks together.

"I feel like I want to kiss you." The statement came out in a strangled, raspy breath against her ear.

"Yes," Maura breathed out, leaning back, waiting.

"But . . . we're not—"

"It's okay, it's bubble day." Her fingers cupped Jane's cheek. "You're so beautiful, Jane."

A grin spread across Jane's face and she felt herself blushing. Then, before she could make a move, Maura kissed her.

Slowly, Jane learned what it was like to kiss a woman. To kiss Maura. She was soft, and every millimeter of her was smooth and delicate. It was nothing like kissing a man. Nothing. And infinitely better.

Jane gently ran her tongue across Maura's bottom lip, and Maura pulled back. Jane's heart pounded, and she almost started to apologize, but again Maura surprised her with a look of pure desire before thrusting into Jane's mouth with abandon. Jane licked and sucked at the pebbled flesh that had invaded her mouth and to her great amazement heard squealing noises coming out of the back of her own throat.

Maura had pinned her head back against the pillow, and when she grew breathless she bent her head into the crook of Jane's neck, sweaty and damp. She moved her body until she lay completely on top of Jane, easing her way between the detective's thighs. Jane's knees bent, and her legs tightened around the smaller woman of their own accord. Her hands snuck up the back of Maura's tank top, spreading her fingers to try to touch as much skin as she possibly could.

Then the kissing started again. Jane lost all track of time, as her reality became nothing more than Maura's hot mouth moving against hers and an unrelenting feeling of wanting more and never getting enough.

Soft sucking noises interspersed with groans and gulping breaths were the only sounds in the room. Neither woman wanted to speak, fearing the bubble would pop forever. There was no question now that a line had been crossed, and the only words that would make sense were words that neither of them wanted to hear.

_What are we doing?_

Ignoring whatever signals her brain was sending her to be careful, be cautious, Jane rolled over onto her side, never breaking contact with Maura's mouth. Her hand began to move beneath Maura's tank top, slowly sliding over muscle, bone, and finally, breast. Maura pulled away as she concentrated on Jane's fingers on her skin and leaned back against the pillow, silently giving Jane further access.

Jane locked her eyes with Maura's as her palm and then her fingertips met a firm nipple. Jane caressed it while holding her breath, her mouth watering just from thinking about seeing it and tasting it. Imagining suckling, while the look on Maura's face began to approach ecstasy.

Slowly, she pushed up the fabric; bent to kiss a smooth, soft stomach. She dragged her lips and tongue up the seemingly endless expanse of Maura's torso, one kiss at a time, feeling Maura's breathing become labored and her back arching into Jane's touch. Then she slid her hand upward to find Maura's breast again.

As she twisted and kneaded the soft flesh, the look on Maura's face did indeed seem to approach the point of no return. Jane watched Maura's eyelids flutter, her breathing rapid, her back arched. But then her closed eyes pinched, and she turned her head away. Jane watched it happen, and somehow knew what was coming next.

"Jane," Maura groaned, "we have to stop." She stilled Jane's hand, and slowly pushed it away.

No matter that Maura's touch was gentle; Jane still felt like she had been slapped.

"Why? Maura—"

"It's too . . ." Maura took a short breath, still keeping her eyes closed and her head turned away. "I can't."

"Why not?" Jane leaned back, feeling dizzy.

"If we go any further, I don't think I can go back." Maura took a deep breath and shivered, visibly pulling herself together.

"Go back?" Still breathing hard, Jane felt like she couldn't keep up.

"Are you gay, Jane?"

"What?" As usual, Jane was baffled by Maura's bluntness.

"Are you gay? Do you date women? Do you have sex with women?"

Jane felt herself blushing in the dark. "No."

"Me neither."

"So—"

"So, if we aren't gay, Jane, then what are we doing?"

"I don't know, but we can figure it out as we go along, right? God, Maura, what have we been doing all weekend? I thought you wanted this . . . whatever this is."

Maura sighed, and Jane suddenly noticed there were tears on her cheeks. She felt her own eyes water as Maura spoke. "I do, I want—" Maura struggled to find the right words. Any words that would make sense, would somehow make things okay. "It's too much. I don't know who I am anymore. I can't become the daughter of a stone-cold killer and begin a relationship—let alone a lesbian relationship—all in the same week."

"But Maura—"

"Remember when you told Gabriel Dean—why you said you didn't want to date him? Because you weren't ready? I'm not ready, Jane."

Suddenly, Jane found her voice. "I only said that to let him down gently, Maura. I just wasn't into him. I kissed him and I felt nothing. But kissing you—Maura—kissing you, I feel—"

Maura put her fingers over Jane's lips, to try to stop her from saying it, but the word came out anyway.

"Everything."

They looked into each other's eyes for several long moments, before Maura finally broke her gaze.

"Please, Jane. It's too risky. You mean too much to me. What if—"

"What if it works, Maura? What if it _works_?"

Maura was silent for a few long heartbeats.

"I explained to you the concept of bubble day this morning, didn't I? Things have to go back the way they were."

"Yeah, but . . . this isn't a fairy tale, Maura! There's no magical spell that breaks when the clock strikes midnight."

"I know. And that's why I have to—that's why I have to tell you that I can't. I just _can't_. Please don't make me try to explain. I don't know how. I'm sorry, Jane, I just don't know." She kissed Jane again, slowly, sweetly, and Jane wasn't sure if the tears she tasted were hers or Maura's.

When they leaned away from the kiss, Jane spoke softly, her voice breaking. "Are you saying you just don't know how you feel, or you don't know how you feel . . . about _me_?"

Maura's eyes squeezed shut, and Jane realized, dismayed, that she was trying to keep herself from sobbing outright. Taking in a deep breath, the uncharacteristically inarticulate doctor choked out, "I know I love you, Jane, I know that. _Please_ don't think that I don't. But . . ." She took in another breath, which turned into a hiccup.

"But you haven't had a chance to weigh the options? The risks?"

Maura nodded, and Jane stroked her cheek, twirled her hair between her fingers. "I feel like I've been leading you on; I got so carried away with bubble day. But it seemed like a good idea this morning, I didn't know—I really didn't—how it would end. I'm making such bad decisions, Jane, do you see why I can't—why I can't . . . make any commitments to you right now?"

"I'm sorry, sweetie, this _is_ too much for you. I should have known, I shouldn't have—" Jane's voice hitched. "I shouldn't have let things go this far. You're not good with feelings, and you really _don't_ know how you feel. And not knowing is horrible for you, isn't it?"

Maura just nodded, taking deep breaths, her eyes still closed. Jane enfolded the doctor into her arms, and they held each other in silence for a long time.

Finally, Jane spoke again. "It was a wonderful bubble day, Maura. Thank you for the day. No matter what happens, I'll remember it forever. Now can we just hold each other and sleep?"

Maura took several more deep breaths, and finally relaxed.

Jane was still awake, cradling Maura in her arms, when the sun came up.

**A/N: Please don't throw things. I haven't written a story with a sad ending yet, and I don't think I'm about to start now . . . Thanks to everyone who has read, and I hope you will continue!**


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: The usual disclaimer applies. I own nothing.

Chapter 7

"Rizzoli! What the hell is wrong with you?" Korsak grabbed Jane by the arm, forcibly pulling her from the hallway into an empty interrogation room and slamming the door behind them.

"If Cavanaugh catches you threatening a suspect like that—"

Jane wrenched her arm out of her former partner's grasp, her face red and accusatory. "Let go of me, you bastard, what were you doing even watching our interrogation anyway?"

"Frost asked me to, and don't you call me a bastard again unless you want a real fight on your hands." Korsak stood in front of the door, blocking Jane's exit; his expression severe.

Breathing hard, Jane sat down and banged her head on the metal table in front of her. After a few moments, she blurted out a muffled apology without looking up. "I'm sorry, Korsak."

Korsak uncrossed his arms and took a seat across from the now-deflated Jane. He wasn't about to let her off the hook that easily though. "I mean it, Rizzoli. The last time you swore at me like that I said I would kick your ass, and I still could, you know."

"I know. Last time I called you a fucking bastard though." Jane's voice sounded small, despite her attempt at humor. She didn't raise her head, just twisted her fingers under the table.

"Same difference," Korsak snorted, and after a few moments added, "Is something bothering you, Jane? I mean, you're always a little, uh, _overzealous_, when it comes to dirtbags like that guy in there, but you can't talk about cutting off a guy's balls and feeding them to a—"

"I know, Korsak," groaned Jane, "I know. Can we please just drop it?"

"You've been kinda off for a couple of weeks, and Cavanaugh's going to call you on it sooner or later. I'm just trying to look out for you, kid." Korsak's tone softened considerably, as he saw how quickly Jane's attitude had changed.

"I'm fine. It won't happen again, I promise."

Korsak waited in silence for a few long moments, but when it looked like Jane wasn't going to be any more forthcoming than that he stood up to leave. But then he sat back down, sighing. "Jane." He paused, briefly glancing at the ceiling. "Geez, I know I'm going to regret asking this, but does all this have something to do with Dr. Isles?"

Jane instantly sat up, revealing a red indentation across her forehead from the table's edge and a look of shock on her face.

"What?"

"I mean, you guys used to be attached at the hip, and now you're, you know, not. Did you have a fight or something?"

Jane put her head back down on the table. "Yeah, something like that."

"Oh. I wondered." Korsak sighed. "Is it over a guy again, like that rich guy a couple of months ago?"

"What?" Jane looked up again. "Garrett Fairfield? The murderer? We weren't fighting over _Garrett_, Korsak. Really?" Jane shook her head. "We were fighting over . . . never mind. Just—never mind."

"Well, who am I to know what women fight about?" Korsak snorted. "I'm guessing it was your fault though, right?"

Jane looked genuinely insulted. "Says who? Why would you assume that? This is so not my fault."

Korsak put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Sorry, my bad," he said, cautiously. "You should really try and patch things up with her though, you know. She's a great gal, Dr. Isles is."

Jane smiled wistfully. "Yeah, she is."

Korsak stood up again, but before he reached the door, Jane said in her quiet, gravelly voice, "Yesterday was my birthday."

"Oh yeah?" Korsak turned back around. "Happy birthday." He paused, waiting for Jane to say something. When she just looked at him absently, he said, "Wait, you aren't upset about getting old or something, are you? 'Cause, you're still young and you know—pretty, and everything."

Jane grinned at Korsak's attempt to not step in it. "I don't care about my age, Vince. It's just—no one remembered. Here at work."

"We've never made a big deal about birthdays in the office though, have we? I mean, nobody's ever brought _me_ a cake, that's for sure."

"No, but," Jane looked down at her hands, "I thought Maura would remember. She always remembers that kind of stuff. Last year she gave me that electronic basketball game that we put up in the break room, remember?"

"Oh yeah, that thing was cool—whatever happened to that?"

"I think Frost busted it showing off his slam dunks." Jane snickered, but then looked at the floor again. "But this year, she didn't even remember. Or she did remember and just ignored it."

"I'm sorry, Jane. But I'm sure you'll work it out, right?"

"Yeah, I'm sure we will."

* * *

><p>Jane had tried hard. She really had.<p>

Leaving Maura's bed on that Sunday morning, she had completely agreed with the plan to give the doctor the space and time that she needed to come to grips with the changes in her life and make a decision about their—_relationship_, if that's what they were going to call it. It had been hard to go home to her empty apartment, but she accepted the situation and hoped for the best.

After all, she knew Maura, and understood that intimate relationships were hard for someone who had spent her whole life trying to live according to logic and reason and caution.

Entering into a lesbian relationship with a close friend and co-worker would not be easy; Jane was under no illusions about that. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she worried about what her family would say, and what her colleagues and friends would think.

A face-to-face conversation with her mother about dating women? The thought made her shudder. But deep down, she knew that her mother would, eventually, accept it.

But Maura? It had been plain as day to Jane since practically the day she had met the doctor that Maura believed she was only teetering on the edge of social acceptance with most of the people she encountered on a day-to-day basis. Of course she would worry that by dating a woman she would be exposed to even more socially awkward situations. And Jane had no idea what Maura's parents would think.

Not to mention the fact that the revelations about her birth father had made Maura question her identity anyway. It was no wonder that the woman was a wreck.

So, logically, the only thing to do was to wait. She constructed an image of herself as a patient and sympathetic friend, willing to sacrifice until Maura was able to deal with their new-found feelings for each other. She had a plan to play it cool, for as long as it took.

The only problem was that she, Jane Rizzoli—homicide detective and grade-A badass—was having a hard time coming to terms with the new emotions herself.

It took very little reflection on Jane's part to realize that just the few brief moments of physical intimacy that she had spent with Maura had opened her up to feelings within herself that she never knew existed. She had enjoyed physical relationships with a number of men in her lifetime, but this—this was something else.

Maura haunted her dreams at night, and she woke in the morning unrested and—_frustrated_. So frustrated, in fact, that it caused her physical pain. She was able to relieve some of the tension with a little alone time, but _that_ didn't help at all when what she really wanted was to feel Maura's skin and smell her scent. At any time of the day, in the oddest times and places, she would suddenly remember the feel of Maura's lips on hers, Maura's tongue in her mouth, and her whole body would shiver and blood would rush to her face.

When she closed her eyes she saw Maura's face as it had looked at the exact moment she had felt Jane's hand creep up to her breast.

Jane felt like she would do anything to see that look again.

She had never felt such intense longing for someone in her entire life. Didn't know that such feelings could truly exist within her being.

But even more than that, she missed just being with Maura and talking to her. Dozens of times during her long days she thought of things that she wanted to tell the doctor. She picked up her phone over and over again, composing a text in her mind, before setting it down again without sending anything.

The intense wanting was bad enough, but after a few days had passed and it seemed Maura was no closer to letting Jane back into her life, the hurt and anger began to take over. It was getting harder and harder to be that patient and understanding version of herself that she had constructed.

So when that hurt and anger was spilling over into her job on a regular basis—so much so that Korsak was calling her out and Frost had taken to hiding in his car whenever he could—she decided she had to do something.

After they had finished processing their suspect, Jane stayed at her desk until late, ostensibly catching up on paperwork. When the office emptied she took out a yellow legal pad and began composing a note.

_Dear Maura,_ she began.

_It really hurt that you ignored my birthday_.

No, that sounded too needy.

She tore off another sheet and started again. _I know this is hard for you, but I would appreciate it if you would let me know if you have made a decision about our relationship yet._

Too clinical.

_Maura, do you like me? Circle YES or NO_.

Jane laughed in spite of herself. Then, looking at the balled up yellow papers that she had tossed in the wastebasket, she got up and looked around for the paper shredder. Placing it on the floor beside her desk, she smoothed out her drafts and ran them through the metal teeth. There was no way she wanted any of the guys to find these.

_Dear Maura, I love you. You have no idea how much I love you. How much I want you. How much I miss you_.

That one is definitely going in the shredder.

_Dear Maura,_

Jane sat for a long time, trying to put her feelings into words. But nothing seemed right.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, there was movement. The glass doors opened, and Maura walked in. Jane felt a shiver run through her—the same electricity she felt every time she saw Maura now—and hastily covered the notepad with her arm, trying to look casual. The doctor walked over and sat down on an empty chair.

"I thought you might still be here—I heard you have a suspect in custody?"

"Yeah, we do."

"That's good." Maura nodded.

Jane hated that all of their conversations had become this stilted. She fiddled absently with the notepad.

"What's that you're working on?"

"Nothing," said Jane, a little too quickly. Maura leaned over and Jane snatched the paper away, but it was too late—she had seen her name written at the top of the page.

"Are you writing me a letter, Jane?" Maura's tone was light, almost playful. "On a legal pad though? Don't you have any stationery?"

But Jane didn't feel like playing it cute. "Really, Maura? This is the longest conversation we've had in seventeen days, and you want to know why I'm not writing to you on stationery?"

Maura looked taken aback at Jane's brusque attitude. She bit her lip, and sat in silence. Looking down, she saw the paper shredder on the floor, with little bits of yellow paper sticking out of the metal teeth, and she began to put things together.

"What are you trying to tell me, Jane? Or—ask me?"

Jane looked incredulous. "What I am trying to ask you? What do you think I'm trying to ask you, Maura? It's been seventeen days. I've waited for seventeen days. And I'm starting to think that the reason I've been waiting for seventeen days is because you don't want to tell me—" Jane stopped and looked away.

"Tell you what?"

"That I'm the next Garrett, or Philip, or whatever that professor's name was. That I'm about to get my heart broken, just like they did."

"Oh, Jane," sighed Maura, looking up at the ceiling. "I know I've been avoiding you—but I just can't seem to come to a decision."

"So, while you're deciding, you can't even stand to be in the same room with me? That doesn't seem like a good sign to me."

Maura gave Jane a look. "It's complicated."

Jane snorted. After a brief silence, she asked, "Is it because I'm a woman, Maura? 'Cause this isn't easy for me, either. I mean, I'm so afraid of what my mother is going to say that I think if it comes down to it I'll just leave her a message on her answering machine, like that Miranda, or Maryanne, chick I met at the, uh, bar. The Merch."

Maura narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't really do that, would you?"

Jane groaned. "No, I don't think so." She ran her fingers through her hair absently. "But are you worried about what your parents will think? Is that the problem?"

Maura considered briefly. "No, not really. I've been pretty independent all of my life, and they've let me make my own choices."

"Then is it because I'm—from a different background? A middle-class background?" Jane winced when she said 'middle class'.

Maura shook her head vigorously. "No, definitely not. After the Fairfield case, you _have_ to know I don't care about that," she finished in a severe tone.

"I'm not sure of anything at this point, Maura. When are you going to be able to tell me? Next week? Next year? Ever?" Jane was clearly growing increasingly impatient.

Maura groaned, and put her face in her hands. "I don't know, Jane. I just don't know." The doctor stood up, and turned around away from the frustrated, pleading look on Jane's face. "If only you hadn't kissed me, Jane—"

"What? You kissed _me_."

Maura whirled back around. "You said you wanted to kiss me."

"And you could have said no."

"But you were always touching me, Jane. All the time. Why did you have to do that?"

"I never heard you complaining." Jane smirked, but Maura ignored her.

"Well, what was I supposed to do?"

Jane stood up, and crossed her arms in front of her. "Maura. Seventeen days ago I stood in your kitchen and asked you, straight out, if you wanted me in your bed that night." Jane's voice shifted in tone, becoming deep and quiet, as though the anger had gone out of her. "And you held my hand and said _stay_. I watched you make the decision, and walk over to me."

Maura chewed her lip, and whispered, "I was afraid if I said no, you would leave. And I didn't want you to leave."

"So, you didn't want me to leave, but you didn't want me to respond when you told me I was beautiful and kissed me. Damned if I do, damned if I don't." Jane rubbed her eyes, chuckling sarcastically.

Maura sighed. "I guess it doesn't matter whose fault it was, but we did cross the line. And now we can't go back."

Pain and confusion flashed across Jane's features. "Go back? Whose—_fault_ was it? Maura, do you want to go back? Pretend it never happened? Let me tell you something." Jane's voice broke with emotion, and before she knew it there were tears spilling out of the corners of her eyes. "Now that I know what it's like to kiss you, to touch you," Jane lifted her hand almost imperceptibly, unconsciously reaching for Maura, before pulling back and groaning out, "I can't go back."

Maura had tears in her eyes now too, but she remained silent.

"I _want_ you, Maura. I love you and I _need_ you. All of you. I have a physical need for you, do you understand what I'm saying?"

Maura shook her tears away and cleared her throat. "Attraction can be very strong, Jane, but it's just chemicals reacting to—" Maura stopped when she saw the stony look on Jane's face. It was almost terrifying, how hurt she looked, and Maura felt her heart sink.

"I guess that's my answer then. I tell you that I feel for you what I've never felt for another person in my entire life, and you tell me it's a chemical reaction." Jane snorted, and ran her hands through her hair again. "If you had any idea how I felt, you would know this is more than that. But you obviously don't feel that way about me."

Maura opened her mouth to respond but at that moment the office doors opened and Korsak walked in. He took one look at the scene in front of him and stopped in his tracks.

Maura hastily wiped at her eyes and turned away, while Jane swore under her breath. "What the hell, Korsak? Don't you ever go home?"

"Uh, sorry, I, um, forgot my phone." The detective moved hastily toward his desk. "Everything okay, with you two?"

"Everything's fine, Korsak. Maura was just dropping off some stuff and now she's going back to her office."

Maura quickly picked up her cue. "Yes, we'll talk tomorrow, right Jane?" She tried to catch Jane's eye, to let her know that she really did want to talk, but the detective avoided her gaze.

"Goodnight, Korsak." Maura hastily left the office.

Jane rummaged around in her desk, collecting her things.

"Jane, what's going on? Are you—"

"Just—leave it, Korsak. I don't want to talk about it." Within seconds, Jane was out the door, leaving her former partner powerless to do anything but shake his head and mutter something under his breath.

Jane walked down the hall to the elevator on the opposite end of the floor, taking the long way around to the parking lot. There was no sign of Maura anywhere, and Jane made no attempt to look for her.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: The usual disclaimer applies. I own nothing.

Chapter 8

Driving home, Maura felt numb. On auto-pilot, she navigated the streets of Boston until she reached her house and drove into the garage. Believing in the importance of maintaining a routine during times of stress or trauma, she made a mental list of tasks to be completed that evening.

She finished exactly two of them. She collected the mail and sorted it, adding a medical journal to one pile in her office, and three fashion magazines to another stack. Then she returned to the kitchen to feed Bass his usual fare of assorted fruits and vegetables.

Next on the list: feed herself. She went to the cupboard for some pasta, but upon opening it found instead a box of cereal.

Lucky Charms. Cereal she had purchased for Jane, seventeen days ago.

The numbness faded away with a sudden whoosh, like air being let out of a balloon, and Maura Isles began at last to feel.

Clutching the box to her chest, she left Bass to his meal and headed for her bedroom. Divesting herself of shoes, dress, and bra, she put on her yoga pants and a tank top. The same tank top she had worn seventeen days ago, and every night since, even though it had long ago stopped smelling of Jane and begun smelling only of her, in need of a good wash.

Crawling under the covers, she ate Lucky Charms by the handful and let crumbs fall onto the sheets in her lap. Soon, there were more tears than crumbs, and she dropped the box on the bed, sinking deeper under the covers.

When the phone ringing broke the silence, her heart began pounding as she checked the caller ID.

_Please, Jane_.

But it wasn't Jane.

She took a deep breath, cleared her throat, and answered the phone anyway.

"Hello?" She tried to make her voice sound as steady as possible.

"Maura?"

"Mom? Where are you? I didn't recognize the number on the caller ID."

"We're in Hawaii—your father finished his research a bit earlier than he expected. I'm sorry to call so late—did I wake you?"

"No, it's not too late, I was still up."

"Well, is everything okay? You don't sound like yourself."

Maura hesitated, unsure if she should confide in her mother or not. "Perhaps the connection isn't functioning properly. How's Hawaii?"

"Lovely as always. But you've been to Hawaii enough; you don't need a travel account from me. I want to hear about you, Maura. What have you been up to?"

"Oh, working a lot. The weather is warming up; it's supposed to be 75 degrees this Saturday."

Constance ignored her daughter's attempt to distract her with small talk. "The last time you called you said you were having trouble with insomnia, and then I didn't hear from you for three weeks. That's not like you."

Maura gave another vague answer. "I'm sorry—I've been busy."

"Busy at work? Or something else?"

Maura groaned inwardly. Her mother seemed uncharacteristically determined to drag the truth out of her. "It's complicated," she finally said.

"Would these complications happen to be of the romantic type?"

Maura's heart pounded, but she gave yet another vague answer. "I really don't know why you would ask that, mom."

"Why would I ask that? Because the last time you had a bout with insomnia, it was because you were dating Philip Stewart and agonizing over it."

Maura nearly dropped the phone in shock.

"You _knew_ about that?" The shrillness of her voice surprised even Maura.

"Yes, sweetheart. I knew. I knew you were dating someone that you didn't want your father and me to know about, and then we saw the two of you together at a restaurant downtown one night. We have a mutual friend—you remember Emily d'Hiver? I spoke with her and she confirmed it. She told Philip, and he actually came and spoke to us while you were still considering his proposal."

"Why didn't you tell me? You had to have known I was agonizing over the decision!" Maura's voice rose in anger.

"You were an adult, and we wanted to let you make your own decisions. If it helps, I wish I _had_ said something to you. But at the time I wasn't sure how you would react to my interference."

"I just can't believe you knew."

"Mothers usually know a lot of things about their children, Maura. Even adult children." Maura heard a faint laugh from her mother's end of the phone line. "I also know that you either faint or hyperventilate when you tell an outright lie, so you learned from a young age exactly how to dissimulate. For someone who can't lie, you are awfully good at hiding the truth."

When Maura didn't respond, Constance continued. "I can infer from your silence that you agree with me. Now, I can either use the method I created when you were a teenager to get the truth out of you and ask you a series of increasingly specific questions until you either tell me what's going on, or you can hang up the phone, or you can just tell me. I hope you'll choose the latter."

Maura had an unexpected flashback to her teenage years. Constance Isles had truly been a worthy opponent for the teenaged Maura during several periods of boundary testing. Maura felt a strange feeling of nostalgia wash over her, and suddenly felt very glad that her mother had called.

"I want to tell you, mom; I'm just not sure how."

"It take it you are involved romantically with someone?"

"Yes, I have been, uh, seeing someone."

"Well? Who is he?"

Maura took a deep breath. "There is no _he_. I'm involved with a woman. Jane, from work."

There was just the slightest of pauses on the other end of the line, and Maura cringed as she waited for her mother's reaction. But Constance surprised her.

"You can't possibly think this would bother your father and me?"

"The thought had crossed my mind, yes. I'm sure you are aware of the many studies that have been done about the difficulties of parent-child relationships when the child has admitted to feelings of attraction to members of his or her own sex. Not to mention the plethora of anecdotal evidence."

"Maura, you're dissimulating again. You know very well what your father and I went through when we decided to get married against our parents' wishes—why would we ever do that to you?"

Along with a sense of relief, Maura felt another round of tears coming, and suddenly everything came pouring out. "I know, I wasn't really worried about what you would think about our relationship—it's just that I'm afraid there isn't going to _be_ a relationship. I told Jane that I needed to weigh all of the risks before I could consent to anything, and I think I took too long. And then I ignored her birthday, and I said some awful things, and I think it's too late. She'll never forgive me now."

"Oh, Maura . . ."

"Please don't lecture me, mom, I already feel bad enough." Maura sobbed, and Constance waited for a few moments before speaking again.

"Can I ask why you were so hesitant? Are you unsure about your feelings for her?"

Maura answered immediately. "No! I care about Jane more than anyone I've ever known. She's amazing, mom, she really is. If you met her, you'd see. We've always gotten along so well, from the first day we met. Even though we are nothing alike. She doesn't care about fashion, she plays sports, I think she would live on cereal if I wasn't dragging her out to restaurants all the time. She's the best detective in Boston, and she really cares about her job, and her family, and—"

"Sweetheart," Constance interjected, "then what's the problem?"

Maura considered for a brief moment. "There are just so many things that could go wrong—the thought of dating her and then losing her—I can't think about that. What if it's just too hard? I mean, we would be a lesbian couple working in a high-stress, male-dominated environment. I don't want to go through the same things that you and dad did when you got married. I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to deal with it."

Constance sighed. "What your dad and I went through was certainly difficult. But I have never regretted it—not for one minute. We loved each other, and that was all that mattered. That's all that matters now. No, my regrets are not about your father, or our relationship."

"You do have regrets then?"

"Of course! Doesn't everyone? My biggest regret has to do with the way we raised you as a child and a teenager. I think we left you alone too much, and in the process we made you too independent."

Maura was secretly relieved to hear her mother say this, but she didn't want to admit it. "I've always been grateful that you taught me to be independent."

"A little independence is good, there's no question about that. I was raised in an entirely different world, and I had to break practically every family tie I had in order to achieve my own independence. I was determined not to let that happen to you. I—we—wanted you to be completely free to make your own choices."

"And I did. Like I said, I'm grateful for that."

"But I think we went too far. Somehow, you became afraid to take any risks at all. You became slow and methodical about everything you did. You refused to make any guesses or assessments without collecting all the information possible. For you, the decision-making process became all about risk management—taking the fewest risks possible."

"You say that like it's a bad thing—isn't that supposed to be the way to make decisions?"

"Yes, to a certain extent, but you took it to such extremes, Maura. To the point that you had to do everything yourself, without ever asking for help. I think this was already a part of your nature—even as a toddler you often refused help—but I only encouraged you instead of helping you find a balance."

"I remember the day you told us that you wanted to go to medical school to become a medical examiner. Your goal to become a doctor wasn't a big surprise to us, since you had always had a fascination with the human body and you liked to challenge yourself academically. But you chose the branch of medicine that required you to take the fewest risks. There's no risk that your patients will die—they are already dead."

"Are you saying you think I should have chosen a different branch of medicine?"

"No, not at all. I think you chose the perfect profession for your personality. You are an excellent medical examiner because of your attention to detail and your methodical nature. But that just doesn't translate well when it comes to relationships. Please forgive me for saying this, Maura, but you are a little—closed off. You value your independence so much that you don't want to let anyone in. I think that's what you are really saying, whether you know it or not, when you say this relationship with Jane is too risky."

Stung by her mother's assessment of her, and not a little embarrassed as she recognized just how right her mother was, Maura tried to change the subject. "I have worked on live patients. Just a couple of months ago I treated a college student who had been shot. I took a risk then."

"And how did it feel?"

Maura paused, amazed by her mother's ability to ask just the right questions—the ones that wouldn't let her lie.

"I was terrified. But it was exhilarating too."

"Well, isn't that what's happening in your relationship with Jane? Aren't you terrified and exhilarated? I'm in no position to make the decision for you since I haven't met Jane or seen the two of you together. But if you love her—maybe it's time to take a risk."

"I don't know, mom—what if it's too late? I really have been horrible to her. Sometimes she calls me a cyborg, and I was so cold to her I think she might be right."

Constance laughed softly. "If she's as great as you say she is, don't you think she might give you another chance?"

"I honestly don't know. Maybe."

"I'm sorry, honey. There's only one person that can help you with this, and that's Jane. You need to ask her for help. For once in your life—ask for help."

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

_Jane_.

Maura practically jumped out of bed and headed for the front door. "Someone's at the door, mom, hold on."

Peering through the peephole, Maura saw exactly what she wanted to see—Jane Rizzoli standing outside her door, running her hands through her hair and looking nervous. Her heart jumped into her throat.

"Mom, Jane's here. I need to go."

"Of course. Good luck, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too, mom. Thanks—I'll let you know how everything goes."

Maura set the phone down on the table in the hall and opened the door. She felt herself trembling, and willed herself to stay in control.

"Jane, I didn't expect—" She was cut off when Jane abruptly pushed her way into the house and began walking down the hall into the living room without saying a word. Maura shut the door and followed her.

Jane sat down on the couch, and Maura took a chair opposite her. "Jane—"

"No, let me say this first," interrupted Jane. "You said before that you didn't say no to me that night because you were afraid that I would leave."

Maura blinked, briefly caught Jane's eye, and then looked down at her hands. "I did say that, yes."

"Well, I'm here. I'm not leaving. Even if you are saying no to me, we are still friends, and I'm not leaving. I love you, Maura, but if you decide you don't love me _that way_, then we can just be friends. But I am not leaving you."

With a look of fear mixed with defiance on her face, Jane leaned back against the couch and waited.

**A/N: Thank you for all of the lovely reviews on the last two chapters. I was very nervous about them and I appreciated your comments very much. Thanks to all for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: The usual disclaimer applies. I own nothing.

Chapter 9

If you had told Jane Rizzoli that one day she would drive to her best friend's house and beg her to take her words back—the words that had broken her heart—she would have arrested you for misleading a police officer.

Or at least put you on a 24-hour psych hold.

Never in her life had Jane chased after a man. They chased after her, and she sometimes let them, but to follow them home and beg for a second chance? That was unthinkable.

But, as it turned out, she was willing to do just that for Maura Isles.

It had taken every ounce of strength Jane had to do it. To drive over to Maura's house and open herself up—for the second time in as many hours—to the emotional pain. But Maura's words about being afraid that Jane would leave her stuck in her mind and she couldn't let it go. She was hurt and angry, but held out hope that this _thing_, whatever it was, that she had with Maura, might not be over.

Of course, Jane Rizzoli, being a homicide detective and a grade-A badass, couldn't beg for her second chance like anyone else. She briefly considered getting down on her knees on Maura's doorstep and letting the tears, which—much to her utter shame and humiliation—were constantly pricking at her eyes these days, stream down her cheeks.

Instead, she barged into Maura's house with as much confidence as she could muster, and simply refused to leave.

Her heart was pounding so hard she was pretty sure that even Bass, hiding in the kitchen, could hear it. But she pretended that she was as calm as ever, and stared at the blank television screen while Maura stared at her.

"Jane, I know you deserve an explanation but—"

The detective's eyes briefly met the doctor's, and then zoomed back in on the TV.

Maura took a deep breath. "I need some time."

"I told you, I'm not leaving. Take as much time as you want." Jane's tone was defiant, almost unforgiving, and her heart was sinking. She couldn't believe Maura was asking for more time.

"No—I want to talk to you tonight, I really do. But I just had a long conversation with my mother and I've been crying pretty much ever since I left the office."

A twinge of guilt flashed through Jane; she hated it when Maura cried, especially when she was the cause of it. But she held her breath and didn't say anything.

"I just need some time to pull myself together. Will you wait while I take a shower and get cleaned up?"

"Of course." Jane reached for the remote, and Maura walked out of the room but came back seconds later.

"Jane, wait, I—I don't want to leave before saying this."

Jane pushed the mute button on the remote and looked up expectantly at the doctor standing on the opposite side of the room.

"I need help." Maura twisted her fingers nervously, wincing as she met Jane's eyes.

"Help? Help with what?" Jane furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Jane, I want things to work out between us. With us. I love you, and I want us to be together. But it means I have to make some changes; changes that scare me and that I might not be able to make on my own. And as my mother just pointed out to me—rather embarrassingly, I might add—I am apparently not good at asking for help."

Maura took another deep breath. "I'm asking _you _for help, Jane. I need your help."

Jane stared, open-mouthed. Then she launched herself off the couch and practically leapt across the room, stopping herself just in time to stand in front of Maura without actually touching her. Raising her arms, she said breathlessly, "Can I hug you? Is it okay?"

Maura just nodded, and then let herself be folded into Jane's arms.

"Of course I'll help you, Maura. I love you. I know this is hard, but we're in this together, I promise."

Maura found herself unable to speak; she just clung to Jane and felt relief wash over her. After several long minutes, she pulled back and extricated herself from Jane's grasp in order to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"Okay, I really need a shower now. Then, we'll talk. Don't let me try to get out of talking about it, okay?"

"I'll be waiting right here."

* * *

><p>Maura returned to the living room an hour later looking infinitely better. She had traded in her tank top for a pair of clean silk pajamas in a powder blue color and put her still-damp hair into a loose ponytail. Jane switched off the TV and put her arm around Maura's shoulders as the doctor leaned against her.<p>

"Feel better?" Jane's voice was soft, and Maura found it enormously comforting.

"Yes, thank you. And thank you for waiting."

"No problem." Jane was silent for a moment, and then asked, "You said something about wanting to talk?" Now her tone was expectant, inquisitive. She now knew that Maura needed her to push, but she didn't know how hard.

"I know you think I was just avoiding you for the past seventeen days, but I really was trying to figure things out. I have pages and pages of badly written ramblings—addressed to you—on my office desk to prove it."

"Are they written on notepaper, or stationery?"

"Very funny, Jane." Maura poked Jane in the leg, and the detective chuckled. "I actually find writing very cathartic, and it helps me order my thoughts."

"So—what are these thoughts?"

Maura exhaled. There was no putting it off any longer. "You remember how I said that I didn't have sex with Brock?"

Jane felt herself blushing, and hoped Maura wouldn't notice. "Okay, that is definitely not what I expected you to say, but yes, I remember. I believe I was—and am—very grateful to know that."

"It's not that I didn't find him attractive, Jane—"

"Maura!"

The doctor winced. "Okay, sorry. You see, I have a strict five-date rule. No sex until the fifth date."

"Good to know."

Maura continued on as if Jane hadn't spoken. "I learned a long time ago that I have certain, um, _assets_, that men find attractive."

"You mean, your boobs."

Now it was Maura's turn to blush, and she cleared her throat. "Yes, that's what I—don't you dare judge me Jane Rizzoli, I've seen you staring at them more than once."

"Hey, I'm not denying it. You have really nice legs, too. And—"

"Jane! We are getting off topic here."

"Hey, you were the one who brought it up! But I'm sorry—go on."

"Anyway," Maura began again, "I know that men find me physically attractive, but I have to make sure that they can put up with my, shall we say, idiosyncrasies, before I will engage in physical relations with them."

"Okay, that sounds like a good policy. Where are you going with this, Maura?" Jane's voice betrayed her frustration.

"Most men don't make it to the fifth date, Jane. I have lots of first and second dates, but usually that's it. And I'm ashamed to say that most of those that do make it—_that far_—don't make it much further. Even if the sex was good," Jane blushed again, and shifted her position uncomfortably as Maura continued, "it still didn't last. I mean, I've only had two serious relationships in my whole life."

"Maura, sweetie, I still don't see what you are getting at here."

Maura took a deep breath. "I was afraid—I still am afraid—that if we dated, you would end up getting tired of me just like they did."

"But we get along so well, Maura! And we always have. I mean, if I was a guy, I would have made it way past the fifth date test, right?"

"I know, but crossing the line from friendship to romance changes things. You never know what will happen."

"Of course you never know—but sometimes you have to just jump in and hope for the best."

"I know. But that's hard. For someone like me, anyway." Maura's voice sounded small, and a flash of understanding went through Jane's mind. She tightened her arm around Maura's shoulder, running her hand up and down her arm, hoping that her touch would convey that understanding.

"But what about Garrett and the professor guy? Didn't _you_ break up with _them_? They didn't get tired of you."

"That's true, but there were other complications in those cases."

"Like?"

"Ultimately, I decided that I couldn't be with Garrett or Philip for the same reason—I was afraid of being the weak member of an unequal relationship."

"What? You are anything but weak, Dr. Isles," Jane snorted.

"But I never felt like I was really equal to either of them. Garrett was so much wealthier, and so much better connected socially than I was. And Philip was twenty years older than me—a tenured professor who had once been responsible for grading my work. It just seemed untenable."

"Okay, I can see that, but what does that have to do with us? You wouldn't be the _weak_ partner. If anything, I would be the weak one. I'm the one who didn't go to college, and has no money, and basically wears a uniform to work. You're way out of my league—"

Jane stopped and felt panic rising in her throat. "Oh. You were worried that our relationship wouldn't be equal because _I_ wasn't good enough for _you_."

Maura sat up so that she could see Jane's face. "No! Jane, I've told you so many times, I don't care about money and social connections. I don't even care about your clothes. I was worried that we would have an unequal relationship because I wasn't good enough."

"You are crazy, Maura. Like, certifiable."

"Jane. You are gorgeous. You think I don't see the way men look at you? And don't get me started on the women." Maura rolled her eyes. "You are strong, and confident, and you're the best homicide detective in the city. Everyone likes you. Everyone just . . . tolerates me and my awkward ramblings."

Jane stared in disbelief. "This is really what you think?"

Maura nodded, looking down at her lap.

"You're wrong, Maura. I don't know how I'll prove it to you, but I will. You are every bit as good as me, if not more. We are equals in this."

Maura looked into Jane's eyes and almost believed her. Almost. "I'll try to believe that. That's as much as I can promise right now. But there is still something else I want to tell you."

"Okay, hit me with it."

Maura smiled, relieved at Jane's patience. "You know that I can't lie, right?"

"Yes, or you go all vaso-vegetable or something."

Maura narrowed her eyes at the detective, who smirked. "Vasovagal. I faint. So, when I need to, I just hide behind words so that I don't have to tell the truth. I thought I was pretty good at it, but apparently my mother has known I've been doing this since I was a teenager." Maura narrowed her eyes once again, and looked at Jane quizzically. "Did you know it too?"

Jane cringed. "Are you going to be upset if I say yes?"

"No, I suppose not." Maura sighed. "In any case, I've been hiding something from you. You said earlier in the office that you, um, _want_ me?"

Jane reddened. "Um, yeah. Like, a lot."

"Well, I've felt that way about you for a long time. A very long time. A lot longer than seventeen days. I wouldn't go as far as to say seventeen months, but seventeen weeks is probably about right."

"Wow. Really? I mean, sometimes I thought there was something going on, but, wow, you really are good at hiding things."

Maura nodded. "Why do you think I kept begging you to go to yoga with me, even though all you ever did was interrupt and clown around? The first time I saw you in yoga pants and a sports bra—" Maura hestitated. "Well, I don't want to tell you what I thought about."

Jane chuckled. "That makes me feel a little better about some of the things I've been thinking about for the past few weeks."

"It's so embarrassing, Jane. Every time you put your hair in a ponytail all I can think about is kissing your neck." Maura ran her fingers lightly against Jane's neck, and then behind her ear. "And right here, where there are a few stray hairs that look so soft—"

Jane's breath quickened, and she closed her eyes as Maura continued to stroke her neck.

"You see, Jane?" Maura's voice was barely a whisper in her ear. "That's how I felt, all the time. It was driving me crazy."

"I can see how that would be, um, frustrating." Jane cleared her throat, and Maura dropped her hand and rested her head on Jane's shoulder.

"But it wasn't just about the physical attraction, either. I wanted to be with you all the time. I constantly think about you—things to say to you, things to ask you, things to do for you and with you. We were together so much, and once I even overheard Detective Crowe call me your little sidekick."

"What? He's a jackass. You know that."

"I know. But I didn't want to scare you off by being too needy. So, the reason I was avoiding you for the last seventeen days was because I was having a very hard time controlling myself around you. The intensity of these feelings was so great that it made me anxious. I just couldn't imagine what would happen if I gave into them and then they weren't reciprocated, or if I lost you. I was becoming so dependent on you, and I have always been an independent person. It scared me."

"But why didn't you think I would reciprocate? Especially after that night—you know . . . when I kind of . . . felt you up."

"I was still afraid that I felt more for you than you did for me. And every other little thing that could go wrong kept popping into my head. What if you didn't want to tell your parents. What if the guys at work gave you a hard time so you broke it off. What if your attraction to me was just temporary and you decided you preferred men instead. There were just so many 'what ifs.'"

Jane sat in silence for a few long moments, processing everything Maura was saying. Then, inexplicably, she began to chuckle. That low throaty chuckle that made her eyes turn up at the corners.

Normally, Maura loved Jane's laugh. But this time she was just confused, and the look on her face showed it.

Seeing Maura's uncertainty, Jane said, "Sweetie, don't you see? You have just managed to take seventeen days to agonize about the most basic problem in all new relationships. You're scared of putting yourself out there and being rejected. We all have our reasons for being afraid. I just about puked on the way over here, I was so scared you were going to sic Bass on me and tell me you never wanted to see me again. _Everyone_ feels like this—it's what dating is all about."

"This is why I need _help_, Jane. I am not good at this. Not at all." Maura tried to cover her face in her hands, but Jane quickly pushed them away and cupped Maura's cheeks with both of hers.

"Of course I'll help you. And you'll help me. We'll figure it out, one day at a time. Stop thinking so much, you blasted genius." Jane held Maura's gaze until the doctor smiled, and Jane leaned forward to place a tentative kiss on her lips. Maura reciprocated eagerly and soon both women were lost in the heat of each other's mouths and the feeling of relief that they were both finally on the same page.

Somehow, Maura ended up straddled across Jane's lap and the kisses became more and more intense. Eventually though, Maura pulled away, breathing hard. "Jane, I think we have one more thing we need to talk about."

"Hmm? What's that?" said Jane into Maura's neck.

"Sex."

Jane looked up, blushing yet again.

"I think it is adorable that you blush every time I say the word 'sex,' Jane."

That only made Jane blush even harder, which made Maura kiss her, and after a few minutes she had to pull away again.

"Studies show that couples who talk about sex are more likely to have a fulfilling sex life. So what do you think?"

"About sex? That we should definitely have some." Jane's voice was lower and sexier than Maura had ever heard it, and her eyes were dark with arousal.

"I agree—but, tonight?"

Jane looked at the clock on the wall and groaned. "It's two in the morning. I have to be at work in six hours. I guess not tonight. Can we wait until Friday night? That's only forty-eight hours or so. A lot shorter than seventeen days."

"Friday sounds perfect." Maura snuggled against Jane's chest. "Is there anything special that you want me to wear? I already know you like the girls, but is there anything else?"

It took a minute for Jane to figure out what Maura was saying. Then a slow grin spread across her face.

"Did you just refer to your breasts as _the girls_?"

Maura sat up, looked down at her chest and then back up at Jane, trying to look innocent. "I read fashion magazines, Jane. I know what people call their breasts."

"Oh, I don't doubt that you've heard the slang before, Dr. Isles. But you've just used it wrong, as usual. These _girls_," Jane said as she began moving her hands from Maura's hips to her waist, asking silently for permission with her eyes—permission that Maura granted with a barely perceptible nod, "these girls are full-grown, and very classy, _ladies_." Jane cupped the ladies in her hands then, feeling their weight and running her thumbs across Maura's nipples.

Maura's eyes never left Jane's, as she watched the detective explore the curves of her body, running her hands over the heat radiating from the silk pajamas. Her breath short, she reached for the buttons of the silk top and said in a low voice, "do you want me to take this off?"

Jane groaned. "No. Yes. No." She moved her hands back to Maura's waist, and rested her head on Maura's shoulder. "If you take that off I won't be able to wait until Friday."

Maura put her arms around Jane's neck. "Okay. But is there anything you want me to wear?"

"Maura, you could show up in rags and I don't think I would care. But yeah, anything that shows off the ladies." Jane smirked, and put her hands on Maura's breasts again. "Touching your breasts is pretty much all I've been thinking about for the last seventeen days," she admitted in a low voice.

"I can't say I haven't thought about that either," said Maura breathily, before capturing Jane's lips again while Jane continued her ministrations. After a few long minutes, when Jane's lips had once again taken up residence on her neck, Maura added, "Aren't you going to ask me if there's anything that I would like you to wear?"

"What?" Jane pulled away. "You know I don't wear anything fancy, Maura. You don't want me to wear a dress or anything, do you?"

"No, not unless you want to. And I suppose it's too much to ask for you to wear pink—you look so good in pink, Jane, you really do." Maura looked slightly distracted, but then continued. "I was thinking, something more like your white dress shirt, with the collar?"

"Okay, that's not what I was expecting . . . can I ask why?"

Maura looked slightly guilty. "Because whenever you wear it, all I can think about is unbuttoning it and kissing your stomach. And I am dying to have that fantasy come true."

Jane swallowed as Maura's fingers began gliding over her abdomen. Even through her cotton t-shirt the contact was giving her goose bumps.

"You have the most amazing abdominal muscles, and I want to watch them contract when I touch them . . . breathe on them . . ."

Jane groaned. "Maura . . . I don't know if I can wait until Friday . . ."

Maura removed her hands and took a deep breath.

"Right, Friday. Two days. It's not really that long."

"Nah, I'm sure it'll go by really fast, right?"

"Right."

Neither woman sounded convinced.

"I love you, Maura."

"I love you, too, Jane. Now let's go to sleep."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: The usual disclaimer applies. I own nothing.

**Please note that this chapter is rated M, for language and skin on skin stuff.**

Chapter 10

Thursday was hard. Jane had only been working for an hour before she began looking for some excuse to go downstairs and kiss her girlfriend. _Girlfriend_. The word thrilled her.

They had agreed that morning that they were officially dating, but that they were going to give themselves at least a week before telling anyone. If they could make it that long before everyone figured it out.

When they almost didn't make it back from a long lunch, they decided they should probably spend the night apart, and just avoid each other until work finally concluded for the week.

However, they both arrived at the precinct at the same time on Friday morning. Maura saw Jane getting out of her car. Saw her wearing the white dress shirt. Gulped and steeled herself for a long day.

Walking up to the detective, she tried not to stare. But the closer she got, the more obvious it became.

Quickly checking to see that no one was around to overhear, Maura hissed, "Jane—your shirt."

Jane grinned. "I thought this was the shirt you wanted me to wear, Dr. Isles."

"It is. But I can see through it. And you are wearing a _pink_ bra."

"I know." Jane grinned and turned on her heel, heading towards the building. Maura stood rooted to the spot for a few moments, before running to catch up.

"You are an evil woman, Jane Rizzoli."

"I promise I'll think of a way to make it up to you."

They managed to avoid each other for most of the day. Then, at about three in the afternoon, Jane's phone pinged. There was a text from Maura that just read, NSFW. There was a picture attached.

She had to look. She just _had_ to.

It was Maura, all right. Standing with her back to the full-length mirror in her bedroom, she had put her phone over her shoulder and snapped a picture. So the image that Jane got was of Maura's light brown curls cascading over the smooth, creamy skin of her bare back. A bare back that curved down endlessly until it reached a pair of extremely well-fitting navy blue boy shorts.

"Jane! What are you staring at?"

Jane dropped the phone onto her desk with a loud clatter. Frost had snuck up silently behind her. Actually, he could have come in the room tap dancing and she might not have noticed.

"Nothing!" She grabbed the phone and shoved it into her jacket pocket. But it was too late.

"Wait—was that, _Dr. Isles_?" Frost whispered.

Jane turned a bright shade of pink. "She was just—we were going to—uh . . . just shut up, Frost."

"I _knew_ there was something going on between you two." Frost sat down at his desk and grinned at his partner.

Jane cringed. "Don't tell anyone, okay? We aren't telling people yet."

"You mean, Korsak doesn't know?"

"No—why? He hasn't said anything to you, has he?"

"No, just make sure you tell me after you tell him, so I can rub it in that I knew something before he did."

Jane laughed. "Yeah, okay." There was a brief, slightly awkward silence, until Frost cleared his throat.

"But seriously, Jane, nothing changes. I'm happy for you. For both of you."

Jane felt relief wash over her. "Thanks man, that's cool of you."

Frost grinned again, leaned forward and whispered, "So can I see the picture?"

"Shut up Frost."

Shaking her head, Jane pulled out her phone to send a text.

_Thanks a lot—now Frost knows._

_Are you not familiar with the NSFW acronym? It means 'not safe for work.'_

_Yes, I'm familiar! You knew I would look anyway_.

_Yes, I did_.

_You are really going to pay for this_.

_I have no doubt, detective_.

* * *

><p>The plan for the evening was fairly straightforward. Maura offered to make dinner for them and told Jane she should come over to the house at about eight. After that—well, both women were pretty sure the rest of the evening would take care of itself.<p>

Jane rang Maura's doorbell at exactly 8:05. _White shirt. Pink underwear. Ponytail. Flowers. Check._

"Oh, they're beautiful, Jane! Thank you." Maura gave the detective a quick kiss and then headed back to the kitchen. "Let me put these in a vase." Jane followed behind her. Knowing Maura she expected a fancy dinner, maybe even with candles and matching linens, but she was surprised to see the dining room in its usual pristine state as she passed by. When they reached the kitchen, it too was impeccably clean, other than a couple of boxes of cereal on the kitchen table.

As Maura filled a vase with water, she said, "I hope you don't mind—there's been a little change of plans."

Jane's heart sank—she really did not want to go out to dinner, but it probably hadn't been very fair of her to expect Maura to cook so she tried not to act disappointed. "Did you want to go out somewhere? I know a couple of places we could get a table, but maybe not until a bit later since it's Friday night . . ."

Maura set the flowers on the counter and moved close to Jane, putting her arms around the detective's waist. "Actually, I had something else in mind. I'm kind of anxious to get to the—um, main event." Maura looked away, slightly embarrassed by her eagerness. "But I knew we would be hungry, and in need of some energy—so is it all right if we just have cereal for dinner?"

Jane searched Maura's face for any sign that she was being teased. "Seriously?" she growled in a low, scratchy voice.

Maura looked at her and bit her lip, nodding. Her hands tightened on Jane's hips, pulling their torsos together.

Instantly, Jane was on fire. She kissed Maura roughly, making her squeal and take in sharp breaths.

"I'll take that as a yes?" Maura breathed out when Jane finally let her speak again.

"God yes, Maura, let's have nothing but sex and cereal this whole weekend."

Maura cleared her throat. "Jane, you said _sex_. And you aren't even blushing."

"Uh huh." Jane just stared at her, with a look that bordered on predatory. Maura looked into Jane's darkening eyes and her breath hitched. Blushing herself, she said, "I'll get the milk and meet you at the table."

Jane wolfed down her Lucky Charms as though it was her last meal. Maura chose some sort of organic granola, but it disappeared from her bowl equally quickly. Wiping drops of milk off of her chin with the back of her hand, she caught Jane smirking at her.

"I guess cereal wasn't a very sexy choice," the doctor said sheepishly.

"Maura, as long as you let me lick it off you, I don't care what kind of food we eat."

"Oh, I have plenty of very sweet things that you can lick off of me, detective. Later, though." Maura pushed her bowl away and looked like she was about to stand up, but Jane took her hand and stopped her.

"Maura, before we, uh, get to the main event," said Jane with a smirk, "there's something I want to say."

"Of course, Jane." Maura looked slightly concerned. "If you're having second thoughts . . ."

Jane stopped her before she went into full panic mode. "I'm not having second thoughts. Just the opposite, in fact. I want you to know that I am one hundred percent with you on this. I don't want you to be afraid that after we have sex I'll leave you, or get tired of you."

Jane leaned across the table, taking both of Maura's hands in hers. "Now that I'm with you, I don't feel alone any more. I haven't felt lonely in awhile, actually—it just took me a long time to figure out why. It's because of you, Maura. I feel like as long as I have you, nothing else matters."

Maura nodded, desperately trying to hold back tears.

Jane continued, squeezing Maura's hands. "I just want you to know that I love you, and that if things get crazy or hard, we'll get through it together. Okay?"

Maura nodded again, taking a deep breath. "I might be kind of needy, sometimes," she admitted shyly. "But the more you tell me that you love me, the more real it seems."

"I'll tell you every day—every hour if you want." Jane smiled mischievously. "I'll _show_ you every hour if you want. But no more of this seventeen-days-of-no-talking thing. If you want to talk about anything—us, work, Doyle—or just avoid the subject, I'm here."

Maura looked deep into Jane's eyes and whispered, "I know."

Jane rose from her chair then, and once again the two women were holding each other in Maura's kitchen. There was no question about what would happen this time, however. After a few kisses, each more passionate than the next, Maura pulled away and said, "Race you to the bedroom?"

Laughing and breathing hard, Jane and Maura collapsed on the bed after running down the hallway. The moment their bodies were aligned with each other—breast to breast, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, the mood changed. They clung to each other, desperate to find some way to be closer.

In between kisses, Maura choked out, "Is this really happening, Jane?"

"God, I hope so. You feel so good, Maura. So fucking good."

With a surge of energy, Maura rolled on top of Jane, sitting up and straddling her hips. Leaning down, she kneaded Jane's breasts with both hands. "You know what, Jane?" she said, her voice suddenly sultry," I've changed my mind about unbuttoning your shirt." Without another word, she gripped the collar at the apex of Jane's chest and ripped it open—one, two, three tugs later and the buttons were flying across the room and the expanse of olive skin was Maura's to devour.

Jane was too aroused to even tease Maura about the total demise of her best dress shirt.

Maura kneaded Jane's breasts again while kissing her neck. "Did you buy the pink underwear just for me, Jane? It looks amazing on you."

Jane nodded. "Geez, I'm definitely wearing pink more often."

"No."

"What?"

"I mean, I want to be the only one to see you look like this. Spread out on my bed wearing pink. This," she growled, while raking her nails down Jane's sides, "is for me. You are the most beautiful fucking thing I have ever seen."

Jane's eyes went wide and her mouth went dry. She had never seen Maura like this—never heard Maura like this—and it was driving her crazy. Jane struggled to control her breathing as Maura reached around her back and unhooked her bra. She slid it off, along with the remnants of her shirt. Looking Jane in the eyes, she wet her lips and then bent down, taking an erect nipple into her mouth and sucking on it. Jane gasped and arched her back.

"Oh, god, Maura! So good. You are so fucking hot right now . . . please . . ." Jane moved her hands from Maura's back and tried to maneuver them between their bodies to unbutton her pants. Maura took the hint and slid away, unceremoniously tugging the fabric down hips and legs until the only thing Jane was wearing was a bit of pink lace.

Maura bent again, brushing her lips against the lace and inhaling deeply. Jane's eyes slammed shut as she thrust her hips upward involuntarily.

"Tell me what you want, Jane."

Jane's eyes opened again, and she tried to sit up but Maura pushed her back down. "Tell me."

Jane acquiesced. "Why are you still wearing clothes?" Unceremoniously, Maura got on her knees and pulled her sweater over her head, exposing a taut stomach and a navy blue bra. That was quickly removed as well, and Jane got her first glimpse of the breasts she had been dreaming about for seventeen—no, nineteen—days.

Jane tried to sit up again. "You have to let me, Maura. Please."

Quickly sliding her skirt down her hips, Maura settled herself at Jane's side, and the eager detective rolled over and buried her face between Maura's perfect curves. It was her turn to suckle now; rhythmically she licked and sucked until Maura groaned aloud. Surging forward, the doctor rolled back on top of Jane and distracted her by gliding her fingers beneath the waistband of the lacy pink panties.

"Tell me what you want, Jane."

Jane looked hesitant.

"Anything."

Jane closed her eyes and groaned. "Your mouth. Please, use your mouth and make me come. Please make me come, Maura." Jane breathed heavily as Maura's fingers sunk lower into hot, slick flesh, teasing, sliding, grinding. Then the doctor slid down the bed between Jane's wide-spread legs, ripping off the lace and lowering her head to inhale once again.

"You smell like heaven." Without another word, she went to work, licking and sucking at Jane's slick heat. Jane was approaching the edge faster than she would have thought possible. For a brief moment she considered trying to draw it out, but the surge was so strong she realized there was no sense in trying to control it. She let out a scream as her body stiffened and her hips bucked; Maura pressed hard against her clit, intensifying the sensation of the waves that spasmed through her endlessly. Once they subsided, Maura rested her head on Jane's thigh, stroking the opposite thigh with her left hand.

Finally, Jane croaked out, "Come up here." Maura did as she was told, and curled her body completely on top of Jane's, feeling long arms cradling her. Jane's breathing was still rapid, and Maura could hear her heart pounding.

"Am I squishing you?"

"No—I love that you are small enough to lie on top of me like this. It's perfect. God, Maura—that was . . . I think I almost went vasovagal."

"Well, if you remembered how to say _that_, it can't have been very good. Your brain should be mush right now."

"No! I think orgasms with you make me smarter." Jane chuckled, and then laughed out loud. "I love you so much right now, Maura, I can hardly contain it. I feel like my heart is going to explode with it."

"I love you too, Jane. And I loved doing that to you—with you."

"Say it, Maura. I know you want to."

She whispered it. "I love fucking you."

Jane laughed again.

"But Jane?"

"Hmm?"

"I've been waiting for a very long time for this and if you don't recover your strength soon and start touching me, I'm going to have to fuck myself right here in this bed and you might find that a little awkward."

Immediately, Jane hooked her leg over Maura's thighs and straddled her lover, grinding their hips together. "Oh, no, we can't have that. At least not this time." Settling her weight against the doctor, Jane began kissing every inch of skin she could reach, until she once again found Maura's breasts. A low, guttural moan escaped Maura's throat, and it made Jane shiver and spurred her on.

"Your turn Maura—tell me what you want."

"Stay on top of me, just like this," said Maura, gulping. "Use your hands. I want to feel you inside me."

Jane moved her left hand between Maura's legs, suddenly feeling a little nervous. She whispered, her mouth dry, "Tell me if this feels okay." She pushed inside then, and watched Maura's face. Her eyes slammed shut, and another low moan reached Jane's ears. Clutching at Jane's stomach with both hands, she whispered, "Perfect. But _harder_, Jane. More."

Jane pushed in again, and began creating a rhythm. A rhythm that Maura matched with her hips and with small squeals. Her eyes were shut tight in concentration. Watching and listening, Jane began to feel her own arousal rising again, nearly matching Maura's. In fact, she realized, Maura was showing incredible self control while Jane wondered if she was going to come just from watching Maura in this state.

Focusing again on Maura's exquisite face, Jane begged, "Open your eyes, Maura. I want to watch you come. Come for me, let go." With a few final strokes, Maura let the orgasm overwhelm her, lifting her hips off the bed and pressing against Jane as much as she could before collapsing. Jane felt every aftershock and coaxed Maura through before finally pulling out.

Resting her head on Maura's chest, Jane felt Maura's heart race. Looking up, Maura's features showed that she was clearly still gone—in some other place, unwilling to return to reality just yet. Still painfully aroused, Jane reached between her own legs, and gently rocking against Maura's thigh, rubbed herself with her fingers until she felt warmth spread through her and she cried out with relief.

Collapsing onto Maura's chest again, neither woman moved for a long time. Finally, Jane felt Maura gently stroking her hair, and she looked up into the doctor's eyes. "You okay?"

"Mmm, yes. Perfect. So good."

"Is that all you can say?"

"Mmm hmm." Even though she was incapable of speech, Maura smiled the most beautiful smile Jane had ever seen.

"Sweetie, do you think you could come again?"

Maura's eyes opened wide, and her lips parted. "Yes," she said, breathing out and nodding. "Oh, yes."

Jane grinned and went to work.

* * *

><p>"Maura, you're staring at Chuck's biceps."<p>

"I am! Females are wired to be attracted to the strongest, most dominant males. It's natural selection at work."

After 36 hours of doing nothing but making love, sleeping, and eating cereal, Jane and Maura had decided to get out of the house and head for the gym at the precinct. It was Sunday morning, and Jane was on call anyway; after a light workout they planned on going out for lunch if they weren't interrupted.

But at the moment, Maura was enjoying teasing Jane.

"You're making me uncomfortable," grumbled the detective under her breath, "stop."

Maura ignored her and looked back to Chuck while Jane turned away, muttering. She knew very well what Maura was trying to do, and she told herself that she wasn't going to take the bait.

Maura kept pushing, however. "Excuse me," she called out, "you have beautifully developed musculature."

Maura turned back to Jane then and said innocently, "What, am I embarrassing you?"

"Oh no, not at all—why don't you tell him he's got a nice ass too!"

Maura was happy to comply. "And a wonderfully proportioned gluteus maximus," she called out, grinning cheesily and enjoying every second of Jane's embarrassment.

"I am never working out with you again."

The workout lasted only twenty minutes before Jane's phone rang—just like that, real life burst their weekend bubble with a Rizzoli family crisis and then the heartbreaking news of a murdered detective. The next time the two women had to talk was a quick stop for coffee before Jane began her interview of the detective's partner and Maura her autopsy.

Standing at the counter and thinking about how suddenly their weekend had gone from carefree to tragic, Maura suddenly noticed that Jane was shaking copious amounts of salt into her coffee.

"Oh, dammit." Jane set the cup down after Maura pointed out what she was doing, and ran her hands through her hair.

"You know when people lock their keys in their car or sprain their ankle, it usually indicates that something significant is bothering them."

Jane nodded. "Yeah, a cop was murdered."

"Yes, but that's not why you're salting your coffee."

Jane hesitated for a minute before responding. She wasn't sure how much Rizzoli drama Maura could take at this early stage in their relationship. It didn't make sense to try and lie about it though—not after everything they had been through and everything they had promised to each other over the weekend.

"It's my brother, Tommy."

Maura nodded in understanding. "I always wondered about him."

"Well, Frankie and I became cops, and Tommy went to prison for hitting a priest in a crosswalk."

"Oh."

"It was his third strike while driving under the influence."

"Your poor parents." Maura's voice was soft, sympathetic.

"And you know, they keep saying, if the priest that he hit has forgiven him, why can't we? But this isn't about forgiveness. Tommy is really troubled, and the more they deny it, the more he screws up."

"You really care about him."

"I just think that we need to face reality—you know what, Tommy needs help. This isn't like he broke his leg and it'll heal."

Maura nodded in agreement. "I'm really sorry."

"Thank you." Jane realized that she was becoming a little agitated—the way she often did when her family was getting under her skin—and she tried to calm herself down. She and Maura didn't need this right now.

"We've got too much to do today to worry about Tommy." Both women walked to the elevators; Jane headed upstairs for her interview and Maura downstairs for her autopsy.

Maura called out, just as the elevator dinged, "I'll call you as soon as I get the results."

"All right. I'll see you later."

"Jane—"

"Yeah?"

"If you want to talk about your brother, or just avoid the subject, I'm here."

Jane smiled softly, feeling a surge of love and affection for the doctor. "I know." She wished she could run across the room and kiss her, thank her. But, mindful of the cop on duty just a few feet away, she gave Maura a look—a look that she hoped told her how much she loved her.

Then she looked away, and the elevator doors closed.

**The End.**


End file.
